


The Man Who Ran Off With The Moon

by marikei



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Heist, M/M, Multi, Mystery, Organized Crime, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Yamaguchi goes wild, everyone gets hurt, kinda mafia maybe, nobody asked for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 49,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marikei/pseuds/marikei
Summary: Someone is following Tsukishima Kei.26 years old, broke, and suffering from heart ache, Tsukishima has recently moved into Kuroo and Kenma's garage apartment.Life is uneventful, boring, even.. but he just can't shake the feeling that he's being watched.His suspicions are confirmed when an old friend collapses on his doorstep, asking for help. This small act of kindness drags Tsukishima into a high stakes game of international crime... the hunt for a mysterious gem known the Eye Of The Moon.fic playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/14OP9ytQkg6Vw8eo0f1eYX
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Haiba Lev/Yaku Morisuke, Kozume Kenma & Tsukishima Kei, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou & Tsukishima Kei, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 56
Kudos: 66





	1. Unremarkable

**Author's Note:**

> hi, hi! welcome to my tsukiyama fic!  
> here's the sexy but depressing crime drama story you didn't ask for

Tsukishima Kei always did everything right. Occasionally, he could even border on exceptional. But usually, he was just good, and that was enough for him.

Tsukishima played on volleyball teams through highschool and college, fostering deep and personal connections that he still maintained as he aged. Some of his former teammates, Hinata and Kageyama, had gone professional, alongside many others he had played throughout the years. It was a point of pride for him, to know that at one time in his life he held his own on a team with people who were now household names in the small, fervent world of sports.

But beyond that, Tsukishima didn't like to think back on volleyball or high school.

His current closest friend from that era was Tetsurō Kuroo. Their friendship survived partially from the other young man's insistence, and partially due to the proximity in which they lived.   
Kuroo knew not to mention volleyball, Karasuno, crows, freckles, or any of the other things that would remind Tsukishima of the time when he had taken to the court.   
A dark shade now hung over that period of life.

And because he was not reminded, in time, Tsukishima Kei forgot.

He moved on. He majored in biology. He stopped taking risks within his life and started eating the same thing for breakfast each day: toast, coffee, one piece of seasonal fruit.   
He met a woman who was just as plain and practical. Her name was Ikumi, which she spelled with the Kanji that meant "fragrant."   
When he had first met her in the library, reaching for the same book on ocean dwelling microorganisms, that was the first thing Tsukishima noticed about her. She gave off an air of lemons and the almost indescribable smell of fresh water running from a clay pitcher.

The two fell into some kind of love, and, yes, it was definitely love. For a little while.

Tsukishima planned to marry Ikumi. They would buy their own house in the city. He would find a well paying job, possibly one that involved a center of public education, like a science museum. He had always liked dinosaurs.

Tsukishima Kei always did everything right...so it came at a great surprise to him when things started to go wrong.

After graduation and two years of dating, he took Ikumi out to a fancy restaurant that boasted an Italian trained chef called Narisawa. It was a good, safe, expensive choice. The ring was brought out on the dessert tray, because Tsukishima had seen that in a couple movies, and he figured girls liked that.   
He looked up at Ikumi, kneeling as a mere formality.

"Oh... Kei. I-"

As Tsukishima embraced the blandness of life, the coupons and crosswords of adulthood, Ikumi had been outgrowing it. She longed for sporadic adventure, to go overseas, to be kissed in the rain or in the snow.   
Tsukishima had never wanted to leave Japan and he always carried an umbrella.

It was September, now. Tsukishima rolled out of bed in a one room apartment in Sanya, Tokyo. Construction blared loudly outside, the static trill of jack hammers. It made him want to bang his head on the wall, over and over.

_Eeeeuuuugggghhhh._

Real estate was cheap there, and pack hungry developers were hunting the land barren. It didn't make for an enjoyable morning. Tsukishima ate his toast and fruit, before knocking back a cheap cup of coffee. There was a level of dirtiness to the apartment, clothes and trash strewn about, that had never been present in his life before. A few packages of ramen dwelled in the pantry, waiting to be consumed for dinner.   
Tsukishima was too proud to move back to Miyagi, too stubborn to ask for help, and too broke to do much of anything about anything.

Ikumi was probably somewhere incredibly dumb right now.. like Australia. Or Cincinnati.

He buttoned his khaki shirt, tucking it into khaki pants. Tsukishima felt like a moron in the mirror, the Unoen Zoo logo emblazoned across his chest.   
It would be another long day of defrosting rats for snake food.


	2. The Belly of the Snake

Tsukishima observed as the corn snake unhinged it's jaw to gulp down the half thawed rat. The children watching shrieked and jumped back from the glass, but one brave boy approached the enclosure to press his hands and face up against it, gazing in awe at the carnage.   
This was the only part of the job Tsukishima enjoyed.

He fixed the child with a long perfected glare and said, "Hands off the glass, please."

The little boy wrinkled his nose.   
It seemed, momentarily, that he had half the mind to fight this weird, angry adult in khakis (and Tsukishima sincerely _hoped he would fucking try)_ but the boy stepped back to watch the snake at a respectful distance.

_Coward._

Tsukishima leaned back against the cool wall of the reptile encounter, questioning why the idea of fighting a child was so appealing to him.   
It was possible that he needed a hobby or something, but hobbies require expense. If he had money, his job wouldn't consist of telling dirty children not to smudge up the glass he would inevitably have to clean by the end of his shift. Tsukishima sighed.  
The snake flicked a fork tongue over its scaly mouth, satisfied.   
The rat was nowhere to be found.

At the end of the day, Tsukishima boarded a train home. When he entered the car, a figure, a man going by height, quickly got up and moved away from the door. In the process of his movement, he rudely bumped into a girl in a school uniform. She had been drinking something pink, milky, and iced.   
The unfortunate concoction, by way of the shove, traveled through the air and onto Tsukishima.   
He cursed loudly, wringing his hands as she apologized. Tsukishima scanned for the man as strawberry syrup pooled past his knees. He was nowhere to be seen.

_Coward._

Whenhe finally arrived at his apartment, a bulldozer squealing in the lot next door, he was sticky, hot, and irritated.   
As Tsukishima fiddled with the lock, thinking about how Ikumi was probably on some stupid beach somewhere, he noticed a hastily taped up yellow piece of paper.

**EVICTION NOTICE BY END OF MONTH. BUILDING TO BE DEMOLISHED.**

Excuse me?

Tsukishima ran downstairs to the building manager's office. A crowd of other tenants were also gathered around the desk, all angrily waving the papers. Tsukishima pushed through them and slammed his hand onto the table, startling the balding man who had been crouched underneath. The man, Hiroshi, peaked over the side.   
Tsukishima stared him down, standing up to his full height. A thin bead of sweat trailed across Hiroshi's many chins.

"Hey, Kei!", he stuttered meekly.

"It's Tsukishima.", the blond man snapped back, drumming his long fingers against the desk.

A neighbor pushed against him, trying to also lodge his complaint with the building manager, but Tsukishima silenced them with a look.

"What can I do for you?", Hiroshi gulped.

Tsukishima unfurled the eviction notice.

"Respectfully, Hiroshi, what the fuck is this?"

The fellow apartment dwellers behind him yelled in agreement. Hiroshi cupped his face in his hands, sweating harder.   
"I sold the building.", he squeaked.

"You what?"

"I sold the whole building. All of it."

Tsukishima leaned back, looking at the landlord as if one might look at a bug or an unexpectedly rotten piece of fruit.

"To who?"

"The Goda Corporation."   
His words were barely a whisper.

Tsukishima leaned over, cupping an ear, signaling the shorter man to speak up.   
Hiroshi repeated himself, turning a violent shade of red.   
The man who had been jostling for attention yelled out, "What about our leases?"   
There was a chorus of "yeahs!"   
Tsukishima nodded, signaling Hiroshi to answer. Hiroshi paled.

"Non refundable."

Tsukishima clutched his fists, his knuckles starch white. "Speak up."

Hiroshi ducked into the back office, clicking the lock behind him.   
"NON- REFUNDABLE!"

Tsukishima stepped out of the cramped office. People were still surging into the small room, trying to force Hiroshi out from his hidey hole, like a termite with smoke. Tsukishima's head swam with worry.   
The pink syrupy drink still caused his clothes to stick against his body. He didn't have enough money saved to acquire a whole new apartment. This couldn't be legal, this couldn't...   
It was then that he noticed all the construction that had been a backdrop to his life, the machinery and the hard hats, it all bore a G insignia. G for Goda.   
They had been buying up the entire block, probably for some kind of stupid mall.   
He should've seen it coming.

Tsukishima trudged back up the stairs to his tiny apartment. He couldn't bring himself to go inside, so he slumped against the door.   
Here he was, in the shittiest part of Tokyo, in an apartment already crumbling at its foundation.

This wasn't the life he had imagined for himself.

Whatever _this_ was, it had completely taken him by surprise. Chewed and swallowed him before he could even realize he had entered the mouth of the problem.

There were the brief moments, the times in which he had loved, be it a person or a task or a test. He had loved these items so desperately that their worth illuminated something within him. That had felt good to him, but the goodness flickered fickle in the wind, as the love was not returned.

Tsukishima was hit with the sudden notion that within the last months, he may have become habitually depressed.   
It was a depression that grew out of an inability to imagine a plausible future, a future that was different from his current standing in the world.

"Great.", he grumbled.

Just great. Very convenient. Thanks, brain.

Tsukishima thought about the stupid people in those medication commercials, the ones where they would dance around at a bar or in a field. Is that what he had to do now? Go to a fucking jazz club? Garden?   
Would that restore a sense of direction?

He tipped his head back against the door.   
The sun was dying on the horizon, oozing an orange glow that spread softly across his face.

Fucking Goda corporation, Fucking zoo rat defrosting, fucking Khakis, fucking Ikumi, fucking-

A thought too painful, one buried so deep it had turned yellow with age, briefly surfaced in his mind. A cold crept through Tsukishima's body.   
Maybe, things would have turned out different, if..  
He dropped his head into his knees.

"Hey, Glasses. You haven't been answering the phone."

A tall man with wide shoulders, shoulders that tapered into a neat V at the waist, approached him. He was dressed for office work, or something like that.   
The man was remarkably handsome, but in a wild way, dark hair sticking up in every direction.   
There were indents in his ears where earrings usually stuck and if he pushed up a sleeve, the thin slice of a tattoo was visible.   
A silver wedding band sat comfortably on his left hand.

"Don't call me that." Tsukishima growled wearily.

The man, Kuroo Tetsurō, shrugged. He was used to Tsukishima's moods.

He offered a hand to help the blond up.


	3. Kuroo's Idea

When Kuroo was in his second year of college, a sunny American university that gave him a generous sports scholarship, he accidentally discovered a more cost effective way to build solar panels.

This accident, which would lead to a surprising fortune after Kuroo patented and sold the idea, had occurred when he was trying to get his microwave to work for instant noodles, though not many knew this element of the story.

Kenma, his highschool sweetheart turned husband (and Kuroo loved to say it. _Kenma, MY husband. MY HUSBAND, Kenma. Have you met MY-)_ would periodically break things around their house on purpose so that Kuroo might have another brilliant idea.   
The accidental engineer's true passion, though, was in chemistry, and he now spent his days comfortably pursuing his doctorate in that subject.

Kuroo had been delighted when his old friend Tsukishima moved to Tokyo, with a girl, surprisingly.   
He didn't think Tsukishima was hopeless in the romance department, but he could be quite oblivious. When they had first met, the blond hadn't realized that both Kuroo and Kuroo's other closest friend, Bokuto, had been (somewhat jokingly) hitting on him.   
Tsukishima had retained the attractive mystery from his youth and his eyes glinted with uniquely sharp attention.   
He had always been desirable.

But a _girl..._

That part was surprising.

It pained him to have watched the proud man fall into such a shitty place, slumped outside of crap apartment, wearing a Zoo Keeper's uniform, smelling like raw meat and... strawberries? Ek. He helped him up.

"Why are you here?", Tsukishima asked, almost rudely.   
Kuroo didn't mind.   
Everything Tsukishima said was almost or intentionally rude.

"We were supposed to do dinner tonight.", Kuroo huffed, flicking his bangs out of his face.

The slightest pink tinge revealed Tsukishima's embarrassment. He had completely forgotten and he wasn't really in the position to be going out tonight.   
Kuroo rolled his eyes.

"Just get out of the shorts. That ramen place down the street is supposed to be good."

The restaurant in question had actually received multiple health code violations, but it was cheap, and Kuroo knew Tsukishima wouldn't let him pay for his dinner. The blond nodded wordlessly and slipped inside his apartment. He emerged briefly after in jeans and a light blue sweater.

The color was soft on him, pretty even.

The two young men walked down the street, the great beasts of construction finally settling for the night.   
The pair didn't speak much, they didn't need to. Knowing an individual for years smooths out the awkwardness from silence.

Instead, Tsukishima listened to the sounds of his neighborhood.

Tokyo knew nothing of Miyagi. There was a constant tide, the ebb and flow of the radio, the television, the cars, the man and woman that fought loudly with their upstairs window open, the child, the small dog awaiting it's owner's return from the office.   
It never stopped, no matter the time of night.   
Tokyo was not like the hidden orchestra that rang across the countryside. There were no crickets, no sweet layers of silence.

Kuroo, in all his years living there, was numb to it.

For Tsukishima, it was much too loud.

They ordered their food, sitting apart from one another in sticky chairs.   
Tsukishima initiated the dance of small talk before Kuroo would try to ask him about his personal life.

"How's Kenma?"

The question would always receive a long answer.

In all of the dreams and ideas Kuroo had ever had, he could not conceive a greater wonder than his own husband.   
Everything that was good to him had been Kenma and would forever be Kenma, since the day the pair had laid eyes on each other. It was a love that was simple and pure, a love that could make Tsukishima ache with jealousy. They just made it look so _easy._

 _"_ He's leaving in two days for another convention for awhile. Some video con thing or whatever. A lot of panels. He's pretending to be all miserable about it, but I know he's excited."

Kuroo beamed with pride. Kenma, along with several other lucrative business investments, had made a career as a popular streamer, popular enough to the point of mild celebrity. People would stop them when they were out for a photo, and Kuroo would always offer to take it. Kenma would put up a peace sign and a thin lipped smile, posing next to the fan. After, he would grumble about "just wanting some peace and quiet."   
It was _very cute._

Tsukishima nodded along, not really listening as Kuroo went on and on about how Kenma was hopeless at packing himself for trips.

Finally, the waitress brought their meals- steaming bowls of broth and noodles, nori, sliced pork, scallions. It shook Kuroo from his monologue.

"So, how are you?"

"I'm fine."

"Are ya now?"

"Yes, Kuroo. I'm fine."

"What's up with this?"   
Kuroo slid one of the many eviction notices that had been advertised all over Tsukishima's apartment across the table. Tsukishima quickly grabbed it, crumpling the paper into his pocket. "It's not a big deal."

Kuroo furrowed his brow, leaning his head to the side. "Where are you moving to?"

Tsukishima waved his hand vaguely, gesturing off in no particular direction.   
Kuroo leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap.   
They sat in silence for a long time, not really looking at each other.   
Finally, Kuroo fixed Tsukishima with a kind, but intense stare. He cracked his knuckles.

"I know it's awkward and uncomfortable and difficult. I get that. But there's no weakness in asking for help when you need it. Especially if you're asking a friend."

Tsukishima shrunk back from Kuroo's words as if they had a prickly quality. "Look Mr. Money Man, I don't-"

"Come stay in our garage apartment. Seriously. I'll even, like, charge you rent."

Tsukishima didn't say anything. The waitress collected their bills.   
Kuroo stammered on.   
"Kenma's going to be gone for like a whole month and you _know_ how depressed I get when I don't have anyone to come bother all day."

Tsukishima sighed, feeling the weight of the eviction notice in his pocket.

"How much would rent be?"


	4. Not Much Life

Days passed with an aimless, drifting quality. It wouldn't take long for Tsukishima to move out of his apartment, but he was putting off the action of boxing his meager possessions. Leaving the apartment would mean leaving behind a particular brand of independence he had based his sense of pride off of over the last couple months. 

Time, unfortunately, had no respect for Tsukishima's pride. 

His landlord had told him to clear out by today or get bulldozed with the building. Tsukishima blinked wearily in the sun and locked the front door behind himself. It would be his last trip from this specific spot to the nearby train station, from the train station to an overly crowded car, a car that would release him at Jr Ueno Station- a short walk from the zoo. It was a path so deeply carved into his memory, Tsukishima could probably do it with his eyes closed. 

He was tempted to try. 

Old men, aging former day laborers, watched him pass. Their faces were etched with the wear of effort, the sustained difficulty of work. These were the men who built modern Tokyo: the tower, the space for the 1964 Olympics, the metro. The same hands that now gathered cans for spare change had carefully reared the city as Tsukishima knew it. They looked at him with quiet recognition. Tsukishima did not like to look at the men on the sidewalk. Instead, he marched forward towards the sun. He heard the faint scuffle of steps and turned to see a blur of a figure dart behind a corner. 

Tsukishima's blood ran cold. Crime was not abundant in Sanya, but it wasn't uncommon. It would be rather embarrassing to be mugged for the loose change and pack of gum that his pocket's held. Tsukishima waited at the corner, fidgeting slightly with discomfort. As soon as the light turned, he darted across the street. It may have been his imagination, but Tsukishima felt that undeniable prickliness that comes from being observed. He ducked into the station, a small subterranean space crammed thick with commuters. The melay of movement made him feel more at ease, the anonymity of being in a large group. 

The feeling of being watched did not entirely subside until he swiped his card to unlock the door to the reptile enclosure staffer's entrance. 

After work, Tsukishima gathered his things into two boxes and returned his keys to Hiroshi. Specifically, he dangled the keys over Hiroshi's head and made the smaller man jump a bit for them in a well warranted display of bullying. 

Kenma and Kuroo lived in Denenchofu, an urbanized suburb of Tokyo that attracted many celebrities, sports stars, politicians, and high level businessmen. It was about 40 minutes by train from the zoo. Denenchofu had been designed by a British city planner to look like the suburbs of London, spacious and tree lined. It was one of the few areas of Tokyo that had not been affected by the Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923, which Tsukishima found fitting. 

It was an untouchable area for untouchable people. 

Houses were so large that emptiness spilled out the sides. Space and objects outnumbered living, breathing bodies. Denenchofu was also considered a good area to raise a family, a fact Kuroo often repeated to Kenma. 

Tsukishima felt uncomfortable as he passed a woman pushing a stroller. It felt like both her and her baby were looking him up and down, questioning the presence of the tall, box laden man that smelled like raw meat and meal worms. He did not belong here. Tsukishima typed in the gate code at the house and walked up the thin path to the front door. Kuroo had left it unlocked with the instructions to "Just, like, come in whenever. I'll probably be home, or Kenma will be, or neither of us, honestly idk man." 

The interior was white and modern, minimalist and open. The kitchen was well outfitted for Kuroo's cooking hobby, the living room had a deep gray couch and a TV almost as long as Tsukishima. It was always jarring to see the way Kuroo and Kenma lived, how far they had come from the sweaty high schoolers he had eaten barbecue with at the summer training camp so many years ago. 

It wasn't completely alien, though. 

Kuroo and Kenma both had a messy quality to them, a disorderliness that had not faded with age. Books were stacked haphazardly. A suitcase with clothes scattered all around it sat on the kitchen table. There were tangles of wires meant for God know's what and an unhealthy amount of old coffee cups scattered across the counter. Tsukishima set down his boxes in one of the few unoccupied spaces. He poked his head into the office Kuroo kept for his studies, though no one was there. Tsukishima went upstairs, glancing through the thin crack of Kenma's gaming room. The monitors were cold and blank, the chair was empty. Tsukishima was about to head back downstairs to wait in the living room for the pair to return when he heard rich laughter bubbling down from the hall. 

It wasn't Kuroo's ugly, horrifying cackle. The laughter was soft and serious, Kenma's. In the reflection of the hall mirror, Tsukishima could see Kenma with a plastic bag over his hair, which Kuroo adjusted. With his other hand, Kuroo held a hair dye brush coated with bleach. Kenma wrinkled his nose, making a face at his partner. Kuroo kneeled down to the smaller man's height and kissed his forehead, his nose, his mouth. 

"You're gonna look so pretty." 

"It's the same toner we always put in my hair." 

"Yeah, and you always look so pretty." 

Kenma draped his arms around Kuroo's neck, squeezing him a way that was intimate and a bit childish, "Shut up." Kuroo pulled Kenma up to his feet, wrapping his arms around his waist. "I always hate it so much when you leave." 

Down the hall, Tsukishima's face burned over his accidental viewership of the private moment. He quietly returned downstairs, sitting on the couch, waiting for someone to come down the stairs and tell him where he should be. As he sat, he thought about the men who roamed the streets of Sanya until they disappeared.He thought about the rats that lived and died for the sole purpose of being consumed by the snakes under his care at work.

Mostly, Tsukishima thought of the past.

Seeing the simple bliss Kuroo and Kenma had in the smallest moments of their life was always difficult. It was a bliss he had briefly experienced with Ikumi... and once before then. 

He was too ashamed to admit how much he wanted to share his life with someone, not that he was living in a way that he considered to particularly meaningful or exciting at this time.

It wasn't shame over the idea of needing, the idea of wanting to be heard and seen and touched. Even in his stubbornness, Tsukishima could understand that these were basic human wants. The shame had curdled out of a mistake, a tragedy of timing and surprise that formed a very specific hole in Tsukishima's life. He didn't want to dwell on it, he never had. It was a unique guilt.

Tsukishima allowed his mind to jump back eight years, to remember, if only for a second. 

"Hey, Glasses. I didn't hear you come in." 

Tsukishima was knocked back into the present. Kuroo leaned in the stairway entrance, a few bleach spots on his dark t-shirt.

"It should be a criminal offense to keep a house this nice so messy", Tsukishima muttered. 

It was a half hearted jab. He looked away, not really into the idea of teasing Kuroo right now. 


	5. Two Shadows

Tsukishima was crouched on the floor, eye level with the terrarium.   
"C'mon. Come on out, come eat", he whispered softly.   
A chameleon slowly untangled herself from her hiding spot in the branches. Tsukishima allowed the smallest smile, "That's it."  
The chameleon blinked sleepily at him.

Okabe, the manager of the reptile encounter, watched over Tsukishima's shoulder, "You have a way with her. She won't eat for anyone else."   
His chest puffed out with pride.   
"Chameleon's are just resistant to company. It takes some time."   
Okabe nodded and turned away, "Keep up the good work."  
Tsukishima stood, a bit hesitantly. He had been meaning to ask the older man about the possibility of a raise, since he had taken on more cleaning and feeding duties after another worker had quit. It seemed Okabe knew exactly what Tsukishima was after, because he shook his head wearily.   
"Park budget cuts. Nobody's getting a raise right now."   
Tsukishima nodded, his mood instantly souring.

Kenma and Kuroo's garage apartment was nice. It was bigger than his old place with a small kitchen and room enough for a couch and a table. The bathroom had hot water, his tatami mat had been comfortable, he wasn't awoken by the sound of metal scraping metal.   
He was grateful for the space, though it wasn't without it's issues.   
Kuroo had busted in around 6 am to try and force feed Tsukishima some natto he had made. Kenma had left on a red eye flight for the US and Kuroo already had no idea what to do without someone to take care of.   
"Tsukishimaaaaa, come on! Eat a good breakfast. It'll make you grow up big and strong!"   
"I AM TWENTY SIX."

By the time Tsukishima left work, the sun was low in the sky. The September air had a slight edge. The zoo keeper uniform would soon make it's seasonal transition from khaki shorts to khaki pants. Tsukishima was greatly looking forward to this.   
He realized he didn't quite know where he was walking, which station he needed to go to in order to return to Denchofu. Tsukishima took out his phone, opening maps. The street corner was mostly deserted, save a woman in a neat business suit waiting at the light and a couple of birds. Ueno was quiet, empty.   
As Tsukishima put his phone back in his pocket, he felt a small twinge in his nerves. He subtly turned his head to the side, glimpsing a long shadow that briefly stretched over a building wall. It flickered, quickly moving out of sight.   
Tsukishima thought back to his last morning in his old neighborhood.

That needling sensation of being watched.

He began to walk at a brisk pace, taking an unexpected turn down a line of streets. Tsukishima took another. And another. His movements were random, designed to hopefully be confusing. Tsukishima stopped suddenly at a corner, tilting his head to see behind himself.

There it was again. The shadow.

The body attached to it ducked out of sight. Tsukishima began to walk at a fast pace, trying to navigate the way out of the neighborhood he wound himself into. There was no sound on the pavement, no definite pursuer, but Tsukishima was certain that he was being followed. The crawl of his skin told him all he needed to know. Tsukishima turned left sharply.   
He whirled around on the narrow street. His heart stuck in his throat.   
"Who's there? Why are you following me?"

It was almost silent. He could hear the faintest curl of breath, the slightest scrape of a shoe on concrete.

"I don't have any money. Like, actually",   
Tsukishima huffed a bit angrily.

Silence. Tsukishima stood, frozen, acting more confident than he felt. He stayed at the corner until his own shadow stretched so far he began to convince himself this entire interaction was a product of paranoid thought.

When he finally boarded the train, he thought he saw the outline of a man tracing the corners of his periphery, but it was always the wind, a garbage can, a random assortment of objects dedicated to playing with his heightened sense of fear. The shadows cast by lamp posts became figures, the trees that lined Kenma and Kuroo's neighborhood, even his own reflection in the glass door to the house seemed to be a body that was observing him.   
Tsukishima crossed his arms.

_Stupid, dramatic._

He pushed up his glasses and went inside, pausing to firmly lock the door behind himself. Just in case.


	6. A Visitor in the Night

Tsukishima cupped his face in his palm, resting his elbow on the crook of the small couch. He gazed out the window, watching the shifting shadows of trees rendered by the streetlight that shone from beyond the gate that encircled the property.

"HnnnnaaaaaGGGGHHHHHHHHH."

Kuroo was laying on the floor at the blond's feet. Tsukishima looked down wearily, "You know, you have a whole house a couple steps away. There's more floor to lay on in there."

Kuroo sat up only to immediately flop back down, his shirt pulling against his body, riding up at the shoulders. The thin band of his tattoo was briefly visible. Tsukishima turned his chin back to the window.

"It's too empty and sad. I don't want to be in there all alone."

"Kenma's been gone less than a day", Tsukishima muttered.   
Kuroo rolled over, his face in the carpet. He made another loud, dramatic sigh before rolling over again so that he laid across Tsukishima's feet. Tsukishima wrinkled his nose with distaste and lifted his feet out from under his friend, tucking them into a childlike cross on the couch.

"C'mon, Glasses! Let's go out to eat or something."

"I have food here. And work in the morning."

Kuroo pouted. Tsukishima kept his eyes out, away. There was something strangely vacant about his stare. "It's 4 am in California right now, so Kenma's probably asleep if he's trying to adjust to the time change. I don't want to call him, because what if I wake him up? He needs his rest, he's got such a big day ahead of him."

"Hm."

"I packed like, four different pairs of pajamas for him because sometimes it's cold in Los Angeles at night, but sometimes it's not and- OH SHIT!"

Kuroo jumped up, pressing his hands to either side of his head. The sudden movement caused Tsukishima to lurch back in surprise, "WHAT?"

"I FORGOT TO PUT HIS SOCKS IN THE SUITCASE. Oh, god, I-"

Kuroo took out his phone, ready to place an international call all the way to his surely sleeping husband. Tsukishima stood up from the couch and took the device out of his hands. "It's just socks. He'll figure it out." Kuroo looked pained, then nodded slowly, calming. He laid back on the floor. Tsukishima dropped his phone on the other man's stomach, eliciting an "Oof." He examined his friend, this creature with sensitivity threaded into the fabric of his being. It was strange, uncomfortable almost. A pleasant smile spread over Kuroo's face.

"Love's a trip, isn't it?"

" I bet it comes so easy for you."

The words slipped out, colder and harsher than the thought had even sounded in his head. Kuroo sat up, blinking at Tsukishima, his expression reserved. Tsukishima swallowed, taking a breath. He didn't like apologizing, but he also didn't like the way his friend was looking at him.   
"Kuroo-"

Kuroo stood up, brushing off his clothes. He smiled thinly. "Let me give you some advice."

Tsukishima stood, matching him, about to speak when Kuroo cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Any love, no matter how lasting, requires attention and awareness. Also creativity, in some ways. It's effort and communication. It doesn't come without disagreements. Or sacrifice."

He turned to the door. The floor creaked softly.

"Honesty, too. That one's helpful."

Kuroo waved a casual good night and exited the apartment. Tsukishima watched him walk back towards the main house, pausing to look up at the waning moon. It was partially concealed by thin wisps of cloud, but Tsukishima imagined that Kuroo was considering the fact that it was still the same moon that drifted sleepily above his husband half a world away.

Tsukishima sank onto his bed. _God, I'm such an asshole. Why am I such an asshole? I just say shit all the time._ He would have to apologize to Kuroo in the morning. It was easy to be rude and passive. It was often a less painful way to be, but that did not apply here.

His toes nearly stretched off the end of the mat, attracting a specific cold that felt intrinsic to his own body. The neighborhood was quiet. There was no air of conversation, no cries of neighbors or screeches of machinery. The momentum of the living had slowed as the day passed into night. Many boughts of quiet feel like expectant pauses, but there was something about the stillness of this early night that felt endless. Like sound would not exist unless Tsukishima stirred his own breath, unless he-

BANG BANG BANG

He jolted up, sitting rigidly. The illusion was shattered. What could Kuroo want now? Tsukishima hadn't even rehearsed a reasonable apology for snapping yet. He got up, trudging to the door, pulling it open.   
"Look, Kuroo-"

It felt like terror, for a moment. A fear that ravaged him, pulling at his bones, transfiguring his blood to brittle ice. When the fear had finished, as much as it could within the moment, shock had it's way with him. A tight fist of disbelief tightened around his stomach. It felt like the room stretched and shrunk, tightening to a single point in front of him.

He looked older.   
The eight years had not been kind to him. His face was thinner, he was maybe a bit taller. Long, shoulder length hair hung limply around his face. His eyes though, they were the same. They carried the exact same expression from the first day they met in the haze of early childhood, a look of sharp desperation.

If it wasn't for those eyes, he would be a stranger.

"Yamaguchi?"

The other man opened his mouth to speak, but the sound caught. Before Tsukishima's feelings could burst, Yamaguchi sunk to the floor, just inside the door frame. His hand was pressed just under his right rib cage, concealing a sticky plume of red.   
"Oh, god.", Yamaguchi wheezed out. His breath was shaky. He pressed his hand deeper into the wound, curling into a tighter ball, "Fuck."   
Tsukishima moved without thought, kneeling beside him. Yamaguchi looked up at him. His freckled nose twitched with pain, but he managed a bit of a regretful smile.

"I'm so sorry, Tsukki."


	7. Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood!

"What? No, What?"   
Tsukishima's voice was rising in pitch as he panicked. He froze for a fraction of a second, a million questions racing through his mind, then took out his phone.   
Yamaguchi struggled to raise his arm, an attempt to take the device, but was only able to lightly push against Tsukishima.   
"No hospital.. Can't do a hospital-"   
Tsukishima stood up, "You're bleeding all over the place- You-What the fuck?"   
His face was contorted with pain, but he spoke in a measured tone that was unfamiliar.   
"It's just a scratch. I can tell you what to do, if I don't pass out."   
Tsukishima leaned back, placing his hands on either side of his head, bringing his knees into his chest.

_This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is a bad dream. This-_

"Tsukki."  
He turned, reeling slightly, "Why can't we go to a HOSPITAL, and-and- where have you BEEN-"   
Yamaguchi laid back on the ground, "We just can't go to a hospital. It's dangerous."   
He ignored the second part of the question, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Tsukki, please."

Tsukishima stood up, "Don't, stop. Don't do that-"   
"Roll me on my back."   
"Where have you been-"   
"I need you to roll me on my back."   
"It's been eight fucking years."   
"I need you to roll me on my-"  
"Everybody thinks you're DEAD, I thought you were-"   
Yamaguchi let out another gasp, "I will be, if you don't-"   
His head rolled back as he gasped for breath. Tsukishima immediately kneeled down, placing his hands on his upper body.   
"Just, just gently. W-with the shoulders. Thank you."

Yamaguchi's eyes fluttered as he struggled to speak. Tsukishima noticed his own hands were shaking badly, his pulse bouncing inside of him. He rolled the other man onto his back.   
"Now I need y-you to get s-something like tweezers. If you d-don't have that, you'll have to use your h-hands."   
A new surge of panic flooded to Tsukishima's consciousness, "What for?"   
"I think you k-know."  
Tsukishima stood up again, clenching his fingers tight to cease their violent trembling. The blood had spread all over Yamaguchi's shirt.   
"I'll be right back."   
"Tsukki?"   
"It's just going to be a second. It's going to be ok."   
It was a reassurance almost equally meant for himself.

Tsukishima sprinted into the main house, flipping on light switches. "KUROO!"   
He darted up the stairs, throwing open the door to the master bedroom. Kuroo was in his boxers, a towel wrapped around his head, reading a heavy book.   
"Kuroo!"   
"Well, look who-"   
"No, no I'm serious. I need you to come to the apartment right now."

Kuroo immediately absorbed the erratic energy coming from his friend. He swung his feet off the bed, "Ok, ok. Let me just put on some-"   
"No, we have to-"

The panic swelling up in Tsukishima made him feel dizzy. He pitched backwards on his heels, his heart pounded in a dreadful frenzy.   
_Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi was here. He was-_  
He had to grab the edge of the door to support himself.   
"What's going on?"   
Tsukishima tried to breathe, to steady.   
"What do you need me to do?"   
"I-I need you to get a first aid kit. And the clamp thing, the thin one you keep for, for the test tube stuff, the chemistry stuff-"   
Kuroo grabbed Tsukishima by the shoulders, fixing him with a forced calmness. "It's ok. I know what you're talking about. Just breathe."

Within a minute, they were running up the apartment steps. Kuroo's face was painted with a dark worry, a confusion that transfigured to shock as soon as they entered the small room.   
"Yamaguchi? You-"

Yamaguchi seized with pain again, causing Kuroo to immediately cease talking and kneel beside him, his wet hair pressed flat against his face. Tsukishima held up the thin, plier like test tub clamp as Kuroo opened the first aid kit.   
"Will this work?"   
"Y-yes."   
Kuroo's eyes widened.   
"C-cut the shirt off, then-"   
Tsukishima grabbed the medical scissors from the kit, but his hands shook too heavily to maintain a proper hold on them. Kuroo took them back and sliced through Yamaguchi's clothes in a numb shock.   
After being cleaned off, the wound was revealed to be small and circular, wedged above where his organs rested, just below the lung. It was the tiniest, luckiest gap possible.   
"The-the bullet has to come out now. I need something to bite down on."   
Tsukishima ripped the hem of his own shirt, twisting it.

Kuroo took slow measured breaths. Yamaguchi suppressed his cry of pain, grinding his teeth into the cloth.   
As he carefully maneuvered the tong like tool down the path of the bullet, Kuroo muttered under his breath, "I am not this kind of doctor. I am not this kind of doctor."   
In any other time, Tsukishima would've reminder Kuroo he wasn't any kind of doctor, at least not yet.  
With a dreadful squelch, the bullet came free. Kuroo, still only in his boxers, bent to the side, dry heaving.   
Yamaguchi spit out the cloth.   
"B-bandage. And pressure."   
Tsukishima attached a gauze square to the wound. Yamaguchi laid back, relief flooding his face. "I-I'm gonna rest."   
The syllables blended into each other as he allowed his eyes to finally close.   
Tsukishima and Kuroo looked at each other in shock.   
They sat in the silence of the apartment, staring. Every few minutes, Tsukishima would take Yamaguchi's pulse. Normal. Good.   
It was the same quiet, the one before the knocking on the door, before the horror, the shock, the blood. The quiet that felt as endless as death.   
Within its steady beat were their three souls, three bloodied men sitting on the ground. Yamaguchi slept, Kuroo felt ill, and Tsukishima...   
His past was laying next to him, resting gently on his knee. He could feel it pull on him, pressing its fingers against him, plucking at old memories. Memories that had faded in time were now being born into a new flesh.

Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi sleeping here, now. On the carpet of a garage apartment within this odd suburb.   
Yamaguchi, who was still breathing.   
Who was real.   
Who was here.   
Who was alive.


	8. Unfamiliar Morning

The night dwindled into morning.   
Tsukishima observed as the dawn eagerly crept over the horizon, tentative and soft, like a child coming to wake his parents for breakfast.   
Outside was blue and bright and normal. Achingly normal. People were headed to work, to school, speeding off in trains and cars.   
Kuroo slept on the floor. His brow was furrowed, his face a bit puffy with the stress of the night before. Tsukishima had not been graced by such sleep. Bags collected under his eyes.   
Still, he watched, his gaze alternating between the window and the man who slept peacefully beside Kuroo.

Yamaguchi.

 _Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi._  
Here, not anywhere else, resting on the floor.

If Tsukishima only looked at his face, the faint crinkle of his freckles, the thin line of sleepy drool, it almost felt like one their sleepovers that had been frequent throughout middle and highschool. He always had woken up before him. He knew Yamaguchi's sleeping face well.   
Looking beyond ruined the illusion. Dried blood still caked his chest. The gauze on his wound would need changing. Every few minutes, Tsukishima checked the inside of his wrist for a pulse, his forehead for a fever.   
The blond breathed the same even breaths, careful not to make any noise. His own body pleaded for sleep, but his mind refused him.

_What if I wake up and he's not here anymore?_

He had had many dreams over the years of his friend returning. None were quite like this, but it wasn't ruled out this could all be some trick of the brain. The type of dream that hurts upon waking. His eyelids fluttered close, then sprang open.

_Coffee._

Slowly, quietly, he opened the cupboard to discover he was out. He cast an eye to the two men sound asleep on the floor.

_I'll be just a second. Don't go anywhere._

Tsukishima walked over to the main house. He fiddled with Kuroo and Kenma's fancy espresso machine until all the knobs fell into place and a cool whir began to produce the aromatic smell of coffee. As he waited, he sent a hasty email to his boss that he would be out sick for the day. The machine announced with a pleasant chime that it was ready. Tsukishima hungrily sipped.

_Nope, no, too fucking hot. Jesus. Ow._

He set down the mug as the doorbell rang. Kuroo and Kenma had an electronic system at the gate, one of those video things. Tsukishima looked into the small screen at three men standing idly at the rim of the property. He pushed the talk button.   
"Hello, can I help you?"   
One of the men jumped back in mild surprise, then pressed the speak back button.   
"Hello, yes, am I speaking to one of the residents of this household?"   
Tsukishima shrugged to himself, his mind addled with sleep. Technically, he was a resident.   
"Yeah."  
"We're terribly sorry to bother you at such an early hour, we're with the neighborhood watch."   
Kuroo and Kenma has never said anything about a neighborhood watch.   
Tsukishima leaned in closer to examine the grainy video feed. The three men were all dressed in suits that seemed too nice for local security.   
"Have you noticed any suspicious people within the area?"   
A cold stretched over him.   
"What do you mean by suspicious?"   
He realized he had not been holding down the button, so he repeated himself.   
"We don't want to cause any unjust alarm. Suspicious characters, men who seem like they don't belong here."   
Tsukishima wanted more information, more specifics... but something in him told him that this was not the place to ask.   
"I have not."   
He watched the men glance at one another.   
"Just be wary of unfamiliar people approaching your property. There's been a mild increase in neighborhood crime. Breakins and the like, you know how it is."   
Tsukishima did not, but he agreed. The men at the gate wished him a goodbye, but they did not leave right away. They paced along the fence, one crouching to examine something on the ground. He looked up, shaking his head at the others. The man who had been speaking kicked at the gravel, his small video mouth exclaiming something that seemed like frustration.   
Tsukishima waited to return to his apartment until the men were gone. Kuroo woke as he opened the door. He looked at the other man, bleary eyed.   
They sat side by side, staring at Yamaguchi's thin sleeping frame. His chest rose and fell. And rose and fell.   
Kuroo snatched the cup of coffee, taking a large sip, burning his tongue. Tsukishima covered his mouth before he could yelp from the pain. He glared at Kuroo, putting a finger to his own lips. _Quiet._  
Kuroo gestured at Yamaguchi and mouthed, _What the fuck is going on?_  
Tsukishima aggressively shrugged, _Do I look like I know?_

Kuroo looked at Tsukishima. Then at Yamaguchi. Then back at Tsukishima. There was a challenge written on his face. Kuroo delicately reached out, pulling at the side of Yamaguchi's jacket.   
_"_ What are you doing?!", Tsukishima hissed.

Kuroo ignored him. He reached inside the exposed front pocket of Yamaguchi's jeans, extracting a faded wallet that may have been considered nice if kept in better condition.

"You can't-"   
Kuroo gave him a withering look, whispering "I _literally_ pulled a _bullet_ out of this man, I'm allowed to look in his wallet."

He unceremoniously dumped the contents on the floor, revealing a thick wad of cash, a train ticket stub, and several laminated cards.   
"What are-"  
Kuroo picked one up. It was an identification card with Yamaguchi's picture, but not his name. Kazue Mori from Osaka.   
Tsukishima inspected the others.   
Saburo Hasegawa from Nagano. Yoshiki Nakamura from Yokohama.

He and Kuroo looked at each other.

Tsukishima felt queasy.   
Like in the rest of the world, manufacture of false identification in Japan was highly illegal.  
There were more cards strewn on the ground, but he did not want to see these fake iterations of the green haired man.  
Tsukishima leaned over to inspect the other pocket, caution and care thrown to the wind. When he went to move Yamaguchi's jacket out of the way, he noticed its surprising weight, a pull from it's interior lining. He looked at Kuroo, who raised an eyebrow. Tsukishima ran his fingers along an inside seam, discovering a kind of pouch space.

Suddenly, Yamaguchi stirred slightly. The two men scrambled back.

Kuroo and Tsukishima waited, barely daring to breath. Minutes felt like ages. After it was certain he wasn't waking, Tsukishima delicately tried again. His fingers grasped at the liner, uncovering a zipper within the fold. It felt heavy, heavier. He unzipped and reached in the pocket, grasping something metal. Tsukishima pulled out and immediately dropped a small handgun. It was a tiny, smooth pistol, but a gun none the less.   
Kuroo's eyes widened as they started at the deathly metal object. Neither knew what to say.   
The IDs. The gun. The men at the gate.

_Who are you now, Yamaguchi?_   
_Where have you been?_   
_Why did you leave?_

Tsukishima felt a pressure in his chest. This was too much.

_And what have you gotten yourself into?_

As if he could sense the questions that bounced around in Tsukishima's head, Yamaguchi opened his eyes, staring up at the two men before him.   
It was still. Silent. When he finally broke the pause, his voice was like sandpaper.

"What time is it?"


	9. With A Stranger

Tsukishima grabbed Kuroo's wrist, instinctively examining the watch he always wore. "It's... around 8."   
Kuroo yanked his arm back.   
They stared at Yamaguchi, who brought himself up to a painful seating position. Yamaguchi's face reddened slightly under their gaze and he turned away, "Right."   
The green haired man noticed his things on the floor. He flicked his eyes upwards, a passive acknowledgement that they had went through his stuff, then he returned the cards to his wallet and the gun to the inner lining of his pocket.   
Yamaguchi used the couch's arm to support himself to standing.   
Tsukishima watched as he grimaced and gritted his teeth. A thin line of sweat poured over his brow from the effort.   
"Thank you so much for assisting me, but I'll be off now."   
Yamaguchi stepped forward towards the door, but winced sharply with pain, his knee buckling slight. Tsukishima caught him by the shoulders, steadying him.   
He fixed Yamaguchi with a withering look that could only barely conceal the genuine anger in him. 

"Are you fucking kidding me? First off- Practically- you can barely walk. Second, more importantly- you show up out of nowhere within an inch of your life, we help you, you sleep on our floor, and now you want to leave immediately-What is your problem-"

He spat his words with the cold precision of a machine gun, only breaking rhythm when Kuroo placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What?", Tsukishima snapped.   
Kuroo furrowed his brow.

"Calm down. Imma let you finish. I just wanted to say that I'm going to see myself out for a bit so you two can talk..this..whatever this is..out. If I'm needed, I'm going to take a shower and put some clothes on, then I'm probably gonna cry for awhile. Yeah. Here if you need me."

He flashed them a half hearted peace sign, still covered in Yamaguchi's dried blood, still only in his boxers, and left. The door thudded behind him, his absence reverberating around the room. Tsukishima found himself wishing Kuroo had stayed because now he was alone and undefended with a stranger.   
A stranger that had stolen the face of the person he had cared for most for such a long period of his life.

Tsukishima looked at Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi looked at him.

Tsukishima looked away, at his hands, at the floor, anywhere else.

"It's been eight years."

Yamaguchi nodded. He kept his eyes trained on the blond, even though Tsukishima would not meet his.

"I'm sorry, Tsukki."

Tsukishima forced himself to meet his gaze, "Don't do that."

"Do what?" Yamaguchi gripped the edge of the couch and placed an absent hand where his wound was.

"Don't say that, like you always do. Like we're back in highschool and you served into the back of my head or I've just told you off for saying something stupid. It's been eight fucking years."

Yamaguchi looked away. His expression was vacant, distant. Another unfamiliarity in a growing chain of confusion. "Eight years, three months, and twenty one days. Actually."

Tsukishima's eyes widened in surprise, "I know."   
His face filled with tears.   
Tsukishima Kei did _not_ cry, not ever, not when Ikumi had left him, not when his apartment was torn down, not even when he had broken his arm when he was very small. But his body, as strange and foreign as the sensation was, produced continuous sobs. It was not the hysterical, screaming cry that many use to conceal rage, but a deep and breathless cry. He cried for all of the loneliness Yamaguchi had left behind that he had to carried for so long, and for the safety and reason that had fled his world with his return.   
He found himself on the floor, on his knees, overwhelmed and embarrassed.   
Yamaguchi was beside him, unsure of what to do, but he was _there_ , and that was enough.. except maybe it was too much.   
It had been so long.

They were not who they had been in the rolling hills of Miyagi.

Finally, Tsukishima stopped. His breath returned. "Tadashi.. what's going on?"

Yamaguchi sat back. "I can't tell you. I really can't."  
"What, for my _safety_?"   
He meant it as some bleak joke, but Yamaguchi nodded. "I shouldn't have come here at all. I just.."   
_Didn't know where else to go._

It hurt, though he hadn't intended it to.

Tsukishima scowled, "Those men. The ones in suits. They're looking for you, aren't they?"   
Yamaguchi turned violently pale. He scrambled to his feet, straining from the pain, "They were here?"   
"They don't know anything. They left angrily. Really."   
Yamaguchi smacked his palm into his forehead to punctuate his words, "I'm. So. Stupid."   
"No. No. Hey. They have no idea where you are. Or it at least seemed that way. I'm serious."   
Tsukishima placed his hands in front of him, as if he were approaching a cornered animal.   
In many ways, he was. Yamaguchi calmed slightly. "You have to heal before you can go running off. I know you know that."   
Yamaguchi lowered himself back to the ground. They sat side by side, leaning against the couch.

"What...what have you gotten yourself into?"   
"It's-"   
"It's better if I don't know?"   
"Yeah. Sorry, Tsu- Sorry."

They did not say anything for a long time.   
They simply sat, looking away, in that odd company one finds in people they were once close to but have now have grown estranged from.

Tsukishima finally turned, noticing the dirt and blood still caked to the other man.   
"You're filthy, you know that?"   
Yamaguchi turned red. "Haven't exactly had the time to take care of myself."   
"Here."   
Tsukishima stood, offering Yamaguchi a hand. Yamaguchi pulled himself to standing with Tsukishima's help. Together, they stumbled to the apartment's small bathroom. Tsukishima took Yamaguchi's jacket off of him and hung it on the doorknob. Yamaguchi eyed it's placement, uncomfortable. The freckles on his bare arms seemed lighter than Tsukishima remembered.   
"Sit."   
"Tsukki?"  
"Don't call me that."   
Yamaguchi sat.   
The tile was cold. Tsukishima turned on the shower. "What are you doing?"   
He reddened slightly. "My.. my mom did this for me. When I was little and had a cast I couldn't get wet. Lean your head back," he muttered. Yamaguchi did, hesitantly. Tsukishima knelt beside him, cupping small handfuls of warm water, tipping them over the other man's head. Yamaguchi watched him, nervously, his neck strained upwards. He drummed his finger against his leg. Tsukishima watched, feeling just as restless, though he did not wish to show it. Their physical proximity made him uneasy.

"Can't you sit still?", he snapped.   
"Sorry."   
Yamaguchi took a deep breath. He relaxed his hands and closed his eyes.

Tsukishima hesitantly ran his fingers through Yamaguchi's hair, gently untangling the long locks. The water swirled down the drain, blood and dirt making it run red and brown. Tsukishima felt abundantly self conscious as he massaged shampoo into the other man's hair, his fingers making small circles along the line of his scalp, though Yamaguchi's calm made it easier. He scrubbed away until the water ran clear again.  
But it got under Tsukishima's skin, the soft kindness of this moment.

_Why am I doing this?_

Yamaguchi was much more than his appearance now. He could not reconcile the man in front of him with the creature of secrets and blood that had fallen on his doorstep.   
And it was strange, to feel another person in his hands. He hadn't made contact with anyone for such sustained time since Ikumi.   
There was a period in which Tsukishima had purposefully bumped into fellow commuters on the train or ran his fingers up and down his own bedspread for hours, just to feel, feel, feel.   
His fingers burned with each point of contact.

A twinge of anger flickered through him like a flame.

He unceremoniously tossed Yamaguchi a wash cloth. "Do your arms and face yourself."   
Tsukishima shut the bathroom door behind him, still feeling some kind of heat in his hands and cheeks. He gathered a clean pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, throwing them into the bathroom.   
Yamaguchi yelled a muffled "Thanks!" from the other side of the door. When he was done, he called for Tsukishima, who glumly reentered. "What?"   
Yamaguchi looked small in the clothes. The pants trailed past his ankles. His hair lay limp, but the shower had returned some needed color to his face.   
"Can you help me up?"   
"Tch."   
They latched onto one another, stepping back into the main room of the place.   
"How do you feel?"   
"Tired."   
Tsukishima guided him to his bed, helping Yamaguchi lower himself onto the mattress.  
"Are you sure, I can-"   
"Just take the bed."  
He had no idea how to feel, amidst the sea of anger and concern, between the desire to help and to yell. It was best not to say anything, he figured. Tsukishima sat down on the couch, watching.

"I smell like you, now. After using your soap. It's nice. It's the same brand you used in high school, isn't it."   
"Yeah."

Yamaguchi curled into himself, his cheek resting lightly on the pillow, "If you go to sleep too, Tsukishima, I promise to be here when you wake up. And we can talk a bit more. Maybe."   
He wanted to protest, to point a finger accusatorily at him and cry, "Why should I trust you!"  
But his body needed rest.   
He laid down on the couch, listening as Yamaguchi's breathing even out.


	10. When Soon Arrives

"DUMBASS, HINATA!"   
At the bottom of the hill, Kageyama chased the smaller boy around, trying to swat him with his rolled up diploma. Hinata bounced out of reach, sprinting across the grass, taunting him.

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi watched them from above, sitting side by side at the base of a gnarled cherry blossom tree.   
"They haven't really grown up at all, now have they.", Tsukishima muttered.   
Yamaguchi looked away, pensive. "I think it's nice. That they are who they are."

Kageyama went to smack Hinata again, who carefully dodged, but slipped and skidded across the grass, landing on his belly. His diploma flew out of his hand, caught by the wind.   
"EAHH!"  
Kageyama doubled over, laughing, until another gust of wind ripped his own certificate out of his hand. He and Hinata looked at each other, blank faced, until - "GWAAAAHHHH!!"   
They charged after their diplomas, sprinting against the breeze.   
"GET BACK HERE!"   
"Yeah, we need those!"

Tsukishima chuckled as his classmates struggled below. Yamaguchi released a small sigh of a laugh. _Strange.._  
Tsukishima turned, furrowing his brow.   
"What?"   
"Normally, you would suggest we go help them. And I would say no. Then, you would pester me until I agreed."

Yamaguchi rested his chin on his knees. "They'll be ok. On their own."   
Tsukishima shrugged.   
"I'm amazed those two idiots managed to get into universities at all."

It was a honey sweet March. The sky was golden and balmy, the grass felt tender. Miyagi was anointed with blues and pinks, colors of blossoms and new beginnings. Their dearest teacher, Takeda, had tearfully remarked that he had never seen a finer day for a graduation.

Tsukishima looked out over the rolling countryside, and though his face did not shift from it's usual mask of disdain, he felt a deep appreciation for the place he called home, for the school that had raised him. He even felt for the two idiots down below, who were currently stacked on top of each other trying to dislodge the runaway diplomas from where they had been snagged in a tree. In a few months time, he would be at university in Tokyo, an exciting land of metal and noise. He knew he could excel even more there.   
_Still..._

"When are you going to tell me what you're going to do now that high school's done?"

He had been pestering Yamaguchi for months. Ever since they were little, they had talked about going to the city together. As their time at Karasuno began to dwindle, Yamaguchi had been evasive in sharing his plans for the future. Tsukishima was waiting, waiting for that "Well, Tsukki! Sorry to keep you waiting, but I'm gonna go work in Tokyo! Right by where you'll be going to school, of course!"

But Yamaguchi had said nothing, conjuring an excuse to leave the conversation every time he was asked. Dread pooled in Tsukishima's stomach.

_There's no way we could just separate and say goodbye after all this time. He has to want to come with me, right? Just like we've always talked about._

"You have a plan, right?"

Yamaguchi looked away from him, "I do."

"Then hurry up and tell me already."

Hinata, who had been stacked on top of Kageyama's shoulders, reached too far and tumbled to the ground, taking the black haired boy with him. "STUPID!"

Yamaguchi looked down at his friends flailing on the ground, his eyes filling with glassy tears. "I-I'm really going to miss them."   
Tsukishima felt a twinge of annoyance. "Well, you're not saying goodbye forever, so stop acting like it's the end of the world, and tell me what you're going to do."

A smile crept onto Yamaguchi's face, making the freckles on his cheeks leap upwards. He gazed intently at Tsukishima.   
"You've always been inpatient, Tsukki."   
"No, I haven't."   
"You have."

The tone he used was strangely calm, collected. Yamaguchi sounded older. "I know all about patience. Trust me. You don't have it."   
"Where's this coming from?"

Now, Tsukishima was annoyed and confused.

Yamaguchi just laughed, his face still a bit wet.   
"I'm so proud of you for working so hard to get into your dream school."   
Tsukishima looked away, embarrassed. "Well, you know. Tokyo. Like we said. And I am patient, I-"

Yamaguchi turned, "You are my best friend in the whole world, Kei."

Tsukishima was at a loss for words.   
A cherry blossom petal floated across his face, landing on his nose. Yamaguchi lightly reached out, flicking it off. He took a steady breath.

"And I waited a long time for you to realize I wanted just a bit more than that. But I understand, and it's really ok."   
"Tadashi... what do you mea-"

Beneath the light of the falling sun, beneath the bows of the tree, Yamaguchi leaned forward and kissed him. Not on the mouth, not with some wild and repressed passion.   
He kissed him on the cheek, at the bare corner of his lips, just barely out of reach.   
It was gentle. Soft.

Tsukishima quickly pulled back, surprise seizing him. Yamaguchi stood up, looking at him, but not truly. His gaze was somewhere beyond, somewhere already so far away.   
"I'll see you soon."

Yamaguchi smiled, his eyes glinting. He turned, walking down and off the hill. Tsukishima watched, dumbstruck. The image was forever crystallized within him.

_I don't-_   
_What just-_   
_What-_

Tsukishima spent the night pacing through his room, uncertain, unprepared for all of this. He didn't know how he felt, but he knew, more than anything, that he still wanted to keep seeing Yamaguchi everyday, as he always had been. By morning, Tsukishima worked up the resolve and headed to Yamaguchi's house, only to find it vacant. There was barely any sign someone had lived there.

A week past, police were notified. _I'll see you soon._ A month, Tsukishima refused to leave his room. _I'll see you soon._ Summer withered out and with his parent's pleading, he decided to continue on to university _. I'll see you soon._  
A year, then two. Soon began to feel like never.   
It was an endless cycle of mourning and uncertainty, and it was too much for him.   
In the first two years, Tsukishima responded when people reached out. Hinata, Kageyama. His old upperclassmen: Daichi, Sugawara, Tanaka, Ennoshita, Asahi and Nishinoya. They all wanted to sit, to check in. To talk about Yamaguchi. To talk about his absence.

"He's not.. you know. He's just missing. He'll be back soon!" 

Tsukishima hated that word, in all of its vague uncertainty.   
He hated himself, because he felt responsible. If he maybe just.. or if he had.. if he hadn't reacted so shocked.. or?  
He hated picking up the phone, reading the news, anything. Tsukishima allowed his circle of friends to dwindle, he allowed his life to grow smaller.

In time, he forgot.

But not really.   
Not truly.

Memories filtered in through dreams, always in raw specificity. The way the wind felt. Hinata and Kageyama on the bottom of the hill. His impatience. Yamaguchi, always. The way he looked.

Dreams..   
_I'm dreaming right now, aren't I?_

Tsukishima sat up on the couch, his heart pounding in his chest. Sweat had soaked through his shirt. He looked around the apartment his friends had lent him. Everything was as it had been. Afternoon shadows now filtered through the windows.

Did he dare?

He covered his face, turning towards his bed. He peeled his hands from his eyes.   
Yamaguchi was still there. Real. Not only within a memory. He slept peacefully, his chest rising and falling, the bandage stark white on his pale skin.

_So, this is what soon looks like._

The feelings inside Tsukishima felt more jumbled. He laid back down and closed his eyes, though this time, he did not dream.

He didn't need to.


	11. Old Recipes

Tsukishima slept through the night.   
It wasn't an intentional choice.   
His body woke him around 5 am, hungry and aching. The cold blue of early morning illuminated the small apartment. He turned towards the bed.

_Yamaguchi?_

It was empty.   
Tsukishima leapt off the couch and peeled back the covers. The sheets were cold and long vacant. His heart thundered in his chest.   
"Tadashi?"   
His voice echoed around him. No response.   
"No, no, no, no!"  
He sprinted down the stairs to main house, his bare feet stinging on the gravel path. Tsukishima threw open the back door and instantly stopped in his tracks.

Singing.

Soft and lilting, a voice clear and beautiful. He could not make out the words but the melody rang through him. It spoke of something grand and simple. Tsukishima stepped carefully, so as to not make any noise. He did not want to disrupt the subtle music.   
The lights of the kitchen were on.   
Yamaguchi stooped over a skillet, pouring batter into the pan. The pajamas he had borrowed hung loosely off of him, the rolled pant cuffs dragged on the floor.   
Tsukishima felt like he was intruding, watching the shaggy haired man sing to himself.

Yamaguchi looked...happy.

He moved with a shaky uncertainty, but it looked like he was enjoying himself.   
Tsukishima stepped forward to hear better and accidentally bumped a stack of Kuroo's papers.   
Yamaguchi snapped with tension. He raised a hand to his side, as if to reach into a pocket of the jacket that still hung on the bathroom door. His eyes widened when he realized the mistake, and he turned his back flush to wall, brandishing a spatula. Yamaguchi's eyes darted around the room, scanning for the noise.

The pleasant expression on his face was replaced by that hunted look, the same steely gaze from when Tsukishima had told him about the men in suits that visited.

"It's just me.", Tsukishima mumbled, a bit embarrassed. He raised his hands in a surrender, entering the kitchen. It was off putting to see how Yamaguchi had transformed so quickly.   
"Oh. I'm making breakfast."   
Yamaguchi gestured for him to sit. Numbly, he did. The strangeness of Yamaguchi's presence had not yet, and maybe would never pass.   
Yamaguchi went back to humming. The skillet sizzled.

The stairs creaked. "Hey, Kei."   
Kuroo slid into the chair next to him. He wore a fuzzy red robe and his bed head was uniquely terrible.   
"You're up early."   
"I was calling Kenma. It's 1pm over there."

Yamaguchi made a small noise, a bit like an ahem. Kuroo scrunched up his face.   
"I told you I wasn't going to lie to my husband."   
"It's not lying, it's omitting the truth", Yamaguchi replied quietly.   
The frown on Kuroo's face sank lower. "That's just a fancy way of _lying_."   
"But, did you tell him I was here?"   
Kuroo paused. "No," he huffed. "Kenma knows something is up, though. If he asks again, I'm telling him."

Yamaguchi heaved a mild sigh of exasperation. "Why does he know something is up?"

Kuroo rested his forehead on the table and groaned.   
"Kenma asked me if anything interesting had happened and I panicked and said no, but something interesting is always happening, like when we accidentally got our neighbors mail, or, or like when I got enough points for a free hamburger at McRonald's earlier this week. There's always something, and I always tell him about it, so I could sense that he's suspicious because I said _nothing."_

Tsukishima snorted. "Maybe, Kenma's just amazed that you finally learned how to discern what's actually interesting."   
"HEY."

Yamaguchi laughed slightly and a wave of feeling swept over Tsukishima. Kuroo grumbled in annoyance, staring sharply at Yamaguchi as he weaved around the kitchen.

"I don't like this.", Kuroo whispered in a low tone, barely loud enough for Tsukishima to hear. Yamaguchi was making perfect little stacks of pancakes on two plates.   
"Did he say anything to you? About how he ended up here or where he's been?",Tsukishima muttered back.   
"We didn't talk much, but no. I helped him change the dressing on the wound. He still needs a hospital, but he won't go. So, he's making fucking pancakes."

They watched as Yamaguchi took another pancake off the pan.

Kuroo looked intently at Tsukishima.   
"How are you? Are you okay?"   
Tsukishima shrugged. He genuinely didn't know. Yamaguchi arranged a spiral of fresh berries on a pancake stack. He slid the finished plates across the table to Tsukishima and Kuroo, beaming with pride at his creation.

It was the first time in about two years that Tsukishima had had a fancy breakfast. Kuroo was inhaling his plate. "These.. are very good", he glumly admitted between bites. 

The pancakes were warm, buttery, familiar. Tsukishima had a sense of deja vu. 

"Is this-" 

"Your mom's pancake recipe? Yeah." 

Whenever Yamaguchi would sleep over, Tsukishima's mother would make pancakes for them. By the time they were in high school, he asked her to stop, because it felt silly and childish. Tsukishima came home late one day to find his best friend and his mom in the kitchen, pouring batter into pans. He could still remember Yamaguchi's red face, "O-oh! Tsukki! I just wanted to learn how, since we don't eat them as often anymore." His mom had placed her hands on her hips, beaming in triumph, a _See, Kei? Tadashi likes my pancakes._

Tsukishima felt a sudden pang of homesickness that was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. He flipped the device over and groaned. "They want me to come into work." 

"You should go. I don't want you to lose your job", Kuroo nodded, "I'll babysit." 

Yamaguchi glared at Kuroo, but said nothing. 

Tsukishima finished the food and rose from the table. He looked at the two of them. 

_Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi with his pancakes and his singing. And his absence. And his secrets, and his-_ He thought about the memory from his dream. He felt strange. 

"I'll see you later?" 

Yamaguchi's freckles bobbed upwards with his smile. He nodded, and Tsukishima found himself actually believing him. 


	12. Breaking In

Tsukishima watched the clock run out, immediately sprinting out the door to catch the soonest possible train back to Denchofu.   
He had not possessed an ounce of focus all day.

_Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi._

It was against policy to check your phone during work. Tsukishima powered his back up, sickly surprised when there were no text updates from Kuroo. _But... that's probably a good thing? No news is good news?_  
Tsukishima's hands fluttered nervously, fidgeting and folding, as he fixed his gaze on the view outside the train. Tokyo moved by in a blur, but it still felt much too slow for him.

_I should just call Kuroo... see if everything is alright._

He rang him up as a trail of commuters filed in and out of the train, only to receive Kuroo's goofy voicemail. On the other end of the line, a pre recorded Kuroo cheerfully exclaimed, "Hi! You've reached the Kuroo-Kozume household", only to be intercepted by a series of muffled noises and Kenma yelling in the background, "You sound stupid, you're recording for your cellphone, not an operating service."   
"Ok, how about, Hi! You've reached Kuroo, one half of the amazing Kuroo-Kozume household-"   
"You sound stupid and you're still recording."   
"Oh, how do I redo-"

A beep cut him short. Tsukishima rolled his eyes and declined to leave a voicemail. He was fidgeting enough to earn a rude look from the old woman sitting across from him. Tsukishima glared back at the old lady.

He was doing everything in his power to keep his feet from running at top speed back to the house. When he arrived, Tsukishima noticed the front gate had been opened. The house looked the same as always, spotless exterior and gravel path, but the front door was as wide open as the gate. Denchofu was quiet by nature, but a unique silence hung heavy in the air.

He slowly entered the house.

"Kuroo?"

He did a double take. The mess, the strewn about papers and shuffled cabinets, had been unnaturally amplified. Chairs were tipped over, the rug had been pulled back, drawers had been pulled from the walls and emptied. Tsukishima stepped lightly through the maze of silverware, broken cups, and books. He heard a roaring in his ears and realized it was his own pulse, his own blood rushing violently through his body. His feet carried him up the stairs. Wires leaked out of Kenma's gaming room. Tsukishima glanced sharply around the corner of the door frame to find that the expensive monitors had been taken.   
"Kuroo? Yamaguchi?"

He went to Kuroo's bedroom and immediately saw a tattooed arm splayed on the ground from behind the bed.

"Kuroo!"

The dark haired man lay on the ground, a spilled cup of coffee inches from his hand. A nasty bruise was forming on his forehead. Tsukishima jumped on top of him, gripping Kuroo's shoulders, putting a hand to his neck to check for a pulse.   
Kuroo groaned at the touch, fluttering his eyes open, registering Tsukishima's presence.

"Ooof.. Sorry, Glasses. I'm married."

Tsukishima realized how on top of Kuroo he was and immediately jumped off, dropping the other man. Kuroo thunked on to the ground, "Fuck. Ouch."

"Where's Yamaguchi?"

Kuroo sat up, rubbing his forehead. His eyes grew wide, "There- there was a man here. There was a man in dark clothes, I didn't see his face, and then everything went fuzzy. Jesus, my head hurts."

"Yeah, I think you got knocked out. Where's Yamaguchi?"   
Kuroo gave him a look, irritatedly cupping his hand against his bruise. "What time is it?"

"About 5:30."

He stared off into space, recollecting himself. Tsukishima was about to snap at his friend to "think faster! You're fine!", but Kuroo finally answered.

"It was at like 4:45 he said he was going to nap.. that's one of the last things I remember. So this.."

_Just happened. People were just here. In the house. That meant Yamaguchi could be-_

Tsukishima ran down the stairs and out the backdoor, Kuroo woozily following. He sprinted up the stairs to the garage apartment, only to discover it was locked. Tsukishima aggressively shook the doorknob as he fumbled for the ring of keys in his pocket, pulling, pulling- _Why won't this fucking open!? Not the right key, not the right key, not-_

The mechanism clicked and the door opened. Yamaguchi blinked sleepily at Tsukishima, "Sorry, I locked the door, force of habit-"

"Oh, thank god." Tsukishima grabbed Yamaguchi into hug, overwhelmed with relief, but quickly realized his actions and pushed the green haired man away from him. Yamaguchi's eyes widened.

"Wh-what's going on?"

"You tell me." Kuroo muttered from the foot of the stairs, gazing up at them, leaning on the railing for support.   
Yamaguchi stared at the bruise on Kuroo's forehead, his eyes darting back and forth between the two men.

"The house is ransacked. Kuroo got knocked out. Some stuff's missing."

"Wait, hold on, what's missing?", Kuroo protested. Tsukishima turned, already not looking forward to his reaction. "Kenma's gaming stuff. Probably some other things."

"FUCK."

"Was it just a simple robbery, or-", Yamaguchi started, only to be cut off. Kuroo started up the stairs, punctuating his words with his steps.

"Tch. Sorry. No, it wasn't a simple robbery.   
I hate talking about money, but we've got one of the best security systems you can buy. This was not some stupid little robbery."

Kuroo took a breath. His eyes gleamed dangerously.

"This, Yamaguchi, this is some more WEIRD shit to add to the list of all the weird fucking shit that's been happening since _you_ showed up with your weird life threatening injuries   
and the weird stuff in your pockets  
and your weird secrets- and, AND your weird fucking pancakes that were technically not weird because they were delicious- but, BUT, YEAH. I just wanted to say I'm tired of this shit!"

Kuroo jabbed a finger at Tsukishima, who instinctively stepped back, the stair railing digging into his back. He had never seen Kuroo express genuine anger before. It was a bit frightening.

"Tsukishima isn't going to pry because he's terrified that he's gonna do or say the wrong thing and you're going to run off again, but those rules do not apply to me."

"Hey!" Tsukishima began to protest, but Kuroo silenced him with a look.

"My head fucking hurts, my house is a mess, my husband is gonna lose his mind when he learns his computers are gone, and I'm _soooo_ done letting you walk all over Kei.   
You've been missing for eight fucking years."

Kuroo grabbed Tsukishima, pushing him in front of Yamaguchi.

"I may not know you well, but I know that you have caused so much pain to the people that were close to you.   
You. Owe. Him. An. Explanation."

Yamaguchi stared up at Tsukishima. His face was calm, unshaken by the tirade Kuroo had just unleashed, but a question floated in his eyes. Tsukishima looked away. He knew Kuroo was right, but he didn't want to force an answer out of Yamaguchi. Everything felt so fragile.

"Did you hear me? I said-"

Yamaguchi heaved a soft, small sigh, cutting Kuroo off. Tsukishima looked back at him.

"Okay. I'll tell you what's going on."


	13. False Gem

Yamaguchi turned, reentering the apartment with a small gesture they should follow.   
He looked at Kuroo, flicking his eyes to the couch, "You should lay down, but keep your head up some. Don't fall asleep."

"I'm not gonna fuckin fall asleep, what do you-"

Yamaguchi stare didn't waver, "It's to monitor concussion symptoms. You got knocked out, didn't you? Tsukishima, can you get him some ice?"

It was strange, the collected way Yamaguchi acted sometimes since he had appeared. Tsukishima did as he was told, thunking an ice pack down on the still angry Kuroo.   
Yamaguchi sat across from them, looking down at his hands. "If you feel light headed, nauseous, or disoriented, say something. But the swelling isn't too bad.", he mumbled.

"I feel fine. Start talking.", Kuroo snapped.   
Tsukishima looked at the green haired man curiously, "When did you become a concussion expert?"   
Yamaguchi shrugged, "I've had a couple. Here and there. From work."

_Work..._

The word stirred the air with a peculiar and charged sense of dread that ran entirely deeper than Tsukishima's own aversion to attending his job. Even Kuroo was summoned to silence.

"What work?", Tsukishima asked.   
Yamaguchi sighed. He pressed his face into his knees, then looked up at the two of them.

"People always want things they cannot have. Always. It's part of life, finding your own version of fulfillment for the desire to have what you cannot obtain. Maybe it's religion, or relationships. I don't know. Some people, many people, never figure out how to soothe that need. But everybody wants."

Tsukishima shifted uncomfortably on the couch.   
He understood that, a bit. Wanting.

Yamaguchi watched his small movement and furrowed his brow.   
"Some people, though, acquire enough money in their life that they can only take satisfaction is seizing what they have been told, explicitly, they cannot posses. Rare items. Secrets. Special pieces of art and history."

The green haired man looked small in the fading shadows of the day. The cubes of ice clinked as Kuroo pressed the bag deeper into his forehead.

"I don't want to talk about how it began, why I left, why things got to this point. But, I work-worked. As a contractor, I guess. An important, powerful man hired me to be the middle person in providing for his wants. Anything. I figure out how to get it, and I do."   
Yamaguchi smiled bitterly, laughing slightly to himself.   
"Honestly, I'm good at it. Nobody's ever quite noticed me much, so nobody really notices when I take something until it's too late."

Kuroo, amidst all his headache, connected the dots. "So.. you're like.. a professional thief? Seriously? Like Ocean's 11? Like heist shit?"  
Yamaguchi's face hardened. "I don't like that word. Thief. It's ugly."

"But you've stolen stuff... for money?"  
He nodded with the slightest dip of his chin. "But I only mess with stuff. Objects. I don't hurt people, unless they try to hurt me. Even then."

Tsukishima looked intently at his friend. He almost wanted to laugh. The idea that Yamaguchi could be involved in some strange underworld of crime seemed so ridiculous. Yamaguchi, who hated spiders and would cry during thunderstorms when they were small. It didn't make sense.   
"Why are people looking for you?"   
He seemed to mull the question over before deciding to answer.

"The Eye of the Moon."

"You mean that rock? The one all over the news?"  
For weeks, the Tokyo National Museum had been publicizing the arrival and display of the gem. It was the first time the jewel had ever been exhibited outside of the scientific community. It had originated in a Sri Lankan mine, and it was one of a kind, unlike any other valuable mineral that had been unearthed. Even taafeite, which had previously been considered to be the rarest known jewel, had fifty other existing samples.

There was only one Eye of the Moon.

Tsukishima remembered from the news that it was a milky white, oval shaped, about the size of a golf ball. He hadn't cared much about all the attention the precious stone was receiving, but it would be dishonest of him to say that he hadn't been a little bit curious about the arrival of an object so rare in Japan.

Yamaguchi nodded, "It's possibly the most priceless item in the world."

"And you, what? You were gonna steal it?", Kuroo scoffed, "Could you really do that?"

"I could. But.. I didn't want to. I haven't wanted to do anything I've been doing for a long time. So I ran away."

Tsukishima folded his long fingers in his lap. It all felt too implausible. He breathed into the discomfort and chose to ignore it. In all of places he had imagined Yamaguchi to be in his absence, this had not crossed his mind. He leaned forward, "Why are people looking for you, then? Do they want you to come back and finish what you started?"

Yamaguchi shifted with uncertainty. His freckles seemed to jump and twist a bit on his cheeks. "I'm not sure how this all happened, but someone, somewhere, convinced my former boss that I have the gem. I'm not surprised, I always figured someone would develop a vendetta against me at some point. There was a power outage in the museum about a week ago, which originally had been a key part of my plan for obtaining the stone, but it's purely coincidental. I wasn't even in that part of Tokyo at the time."

"Sorry if I'm being stupid, but, wouldn't... if you had, y'know, taken the gem.. it wouldn't be in the museum?"   
Yamaguchi rolled his eyes at Kuroo's question, in a slight way that only Tsukishima perceived. "There was a fake made. With the current security measures in place, it's impossible to discern the difference between the two, because nobody has the ability to get too close to it."   
"Why don't you just hand over the fake version and set things straight?"

Yamaguchi looked at the ground. When he met their eyes again, his face was sheepish. "I pawned the fake to a broker in America and told him it was some other precious stone that closely resembled the Eye of the Moon, instead of a cheap recreation. It's long gone."   
Tsukishima put his head in his hands, annoyance rising in him. _Stupid Yamaguchi. Always getting himself into easily avoided trouble. At least there's one thing that hasn't changed.._  
"Why would you do that? It's lying", he asked coldly.

Kuroo looked at him, a bit surprised by his friend's sudden forcefulness. Yamaguchi's eyes reddened and his face crumpled slightly. He was clearly negotiating the possibility of crying. A small tear escaped over his pale face, but he quickly brushed it away, like it had never existed. Yamaguchi took another long breath.

"I know.. I know I have hurt everyone I have ever cared about.   
Every person that has met me, felt for me.   
The way I just left, ran off, caused so much pain. And I've perpetuated that pain. I have taken so much. From so many people.   
I just wanted to be free of it all. I wanted.. it sounds so stupid now. I just wanted a little house. By the sea. With blue shutters. I wanted to live somewhere far, far away from everything until I could figure out how I would be able to set all of this right.   
And...once I knew how to do that, Tsukki, I was gonna come find you."

More tears escaped, as perfect and crystalline as any precious stone.   
Tsukishima forgot that Kuroo was there.   
He forgot about his own doubts, his own anger. He kneeled down on the floor across from Yamaguchi and reached out, gently brushing the wet off his face with a swipe of his thumb. This tender act only caused Yamaguchi to sob a bit harder. Tsukishima took the other man's face in his hands, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Nothing's perfect. Nothing's ever perfect. I'm just glad you're here. And you're safe.   
I swear, I'm not going to let anything change that.   
We're gonna figure this out. Okay?"

The two men looked at each other, their knees touching on the wooden floor. There was an intensity, an ambiguous vulnerability pouring out of one and into the other.   
They saw each other as the children they had been and the people they had grown into throughout their time apart.   
It looked a bit like trust.   
It felt a bit more natural.

"Okay", Yamaguchi nodded.

The pair on the floor looked up at Kuroo on the couch. He arched an eyebrow, but gave in.   
"Okay, okay. I'll do whatever I can to help, too."


	14. Nightmare

"You've already done more than enough. My being here is already more trouble than you deserve."   
Tsukishima glared at him, a nonverbal warning that he wasn't interested in Yamaguchi's self deprecating statement. He would receive his support no matter what.   
Yamaguchi turned a bit red and looked away. The color clashed violently with his paler complexion.   
"So they were lookin for the gem, you think? That's why they tore through the house?"   
Kuroo looked pensive.   
Yamaguchi went to respond, but his voice was broken by a yawn. He simply nodded, another wave of tiredness settling in. He looked drained.   
Tsukishima placed a hand down on the table.   
"I think that's all the questions.. I have. For now."   
It was an obvious lie, but a kind one.   
"Let's have dinner, then rest. Ok?"

Tsukishima was never a particularly skilled cook, but he managed to piece together a bit of curry and rice for the three of them. Yamaguchi crushed up some aspirin and mixed it with his water. Tsukishima watched the other man wince as he placed a hand on his still healing injury.   
"Is that too much?"   
"S'fine. Just slightly over the dosage."   
Kuroo placed his banged up head on the table, groaning. He flicked a finger towards the bottle of pain relievers and Yamaguchi wordlessly passed it over. Kuroo sat up, copying Yamaguchi by crushing the aspirin and mixing them into his water.   
The two other men clinked their glasses together and knocked back the medicine. Kuroo coughed, sticking his tongue out.   
"Fucking disgusting, why did you crush them up? That was awful."   
Yamaguchi shrugged, unbothered.   
"Makes it work faster."

Night strode in from the east, driving a caravan of shadows that made camp in the garage apartment.   
Tsukishima went up the stairs, entering. Yamaguchi followed, folding and unfolding his hands in the idle way of a tired child. There was a pause of awkwardness, then they spoke at once.   
"I can-"   
"You should-"   
Yamaguchi gestured for Tsukishima to go ahead. The blond's face felt inexplicably hot.   
"You should take the bed again. I'm sleeping on the couch. It's not up for discussion."   
Yamaguchi opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it, nodding. Tsukishima supported him as he laid down, stretching nearly over the white duvet. Yamaguchi looked away.   
He spoke so quietly.

"You mean the couch in here, right? Not the main house? It's just nice.. having you close."

Tsukishima was taken aback. He nodded, quickly, over compensating.   
"Yes! This couch. I'm sleeping on this couch. The one in here. The other couch is a disgrace!"  
Yamaguchi laughed, musical and light.   
Tsukishima couldn't see him well in the dark, but he imagined the way the green haired man's nose would crinkle, the way his cheekbones would rise, the strand of hair that would fall out of place if he laughed a bit too hard.   
"Goodnight, Yamaguchi. Thank you for talking today."   
There was a pause so long, Tsukishima was worried the other had fallen asleep, until, finally:

"Thank you for listening."

Tsukishima awoke to the sound of irregular breathing, a soft whimper of "No, no, no", barely loud enough to be heard.   
He sat up from his makeshift bed on the couch, sliding his glasses on, looking over to Yamaguchi's twisted and trembling figure between the sheets on the true mattress.   
His fists were balled with cloth and perspiration dotted his brow.

A nightmare.

Tsukishima wasn't surprised, given what he now knew of Yamaguchi's history. He must have experienced so much difficulty, out there, alone. The idea that people had hurt him, had hurt him even prior to his current injuries, made Tsukishima feel sick.  
Yamaguchi cried softly against the dream.

The more he was left alone with his thoughts, the more pain he seemed to be in.

Tsukishima got up, uncertain if he should wake  
him, though he knew he had to do something. He sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand trembled as he raised it, placing it on the small of Yamaguchi's back. The other man's breathing slowly evened out under his anchoring touch.   
He slipped back into subconscious sleep, his body now curled like a dancer.   
There was an elegance to his stillness.   
Tsukishima watched his chest fall and rise, fall and rise, counting each movement.   
When he reached 120, he took his hand off of Yamaguchi so as to return to the couch bed, but he felt fingers loosely wrap around his wrist.

Yamaguchi looked up at him. His eyes were wide, reflected in the moon.   
He looked a bit helpless.   
"I..."

Tsukishima's stomach flipped. It made him feel stupid and childish and confused. His memories made him confused. Even though Yamaguchi had explained so much of himself hours earlier, he was still confusing.  
The fingers on his wrist tightened slightly.   
Tsukishima allowed himself, confused as he was, to be guided on to the bed.   
He laid down next to Yamaguchi, careful not to brush against the side where the bullet had ripped into him.

It is such an easy thing, to lay next to someone.   
But it's infinitely hard, too.

Every small movement disrupted the surface of the mattress, every sigh, every stir. Tsukishima felt impossibly tense. Yamaguchi was beside him, on his back. Tsukishima moved his head slowly to discover the other man had already fallen back into slumber. The moonlight cut through his face, pooling in the sockets of his eyes, a wispy, silvery glow.

Beautiful.

They had shared a bed an infinite amount of times before, sleepovers and school trips, family vacations. This felt different.   
Maybe because their proximity to one another was out of need, instead of habit or convenience.

Tsukishima could feel the heat coming off the other man's body. He could smell his soap, clinging to both of them.

He moved his hand, sliding it against Yamaguchi's, intertwining his pointer finger in the space between Yamaguchi's own pointer and middle.

Just... a little bit.

He didn't know why, but it felt right when his friend briefly tightened his hold, bringing their palms closer together.

They felt tethered, untouched by pain, unharmed by memory, sheltered from an uncertain future.

It was just now, just hands, bodies in a warm bed.

Sleeping soundly, together.


	15. The Second Intruder

Tsukishima did not go to work the next day. Or the day after. Nobody minded, except for his boss. Kuroo, after the break in, was not fond of being home alone and Yamaguchi was pleased to spend time with his chronically sullen friend. In the time that progressed, the nightmares, the paranoia all became more and more apparent. Something inside of Yamaguchi was gnawing away at his interior. He looked into corners, out of windows, constantly worried that someone was coming to get him. Once, Kuroo poked him to get his attention and Yamaguchi had instinctually grasped his wrist, twisting it back. The quick effort reopened the wound in his chest and almost gave Kuroo a sprain. 

There was a constant tension. 

Night was worse. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi would lay side by side. In every scrape of tree branch or passage of a car, Yamaguchi would ask, "Did you hear that?" 

"I did." 

"What did it sound like?" 

"It didn't sound like anything. Go to bed." 

"Sorry." 

He didn't rest well, so he wasn't healing well. Tsukishima did his best, though. As Yamaguchi slept fitfully, he would trace his fingers through his hair, on his arms. He thought, maybe, if Yamaguchi became comfortably reacquainted with touch, his body may start to trust his environment again. It would relearn the feeling of safety. It made Tsukishima self conscious, to take the other man into his arms. He thought obsessively about the last time they had seen each other, that small, small kiss. 

He would hold Yamaguchi against him and wonder if it was relief, or something deeper that he now felt with his return. 

If it was something deeper, what would that even be like? Tsukishima's life had a narrative sense. He had gone from high school to college, college to work. He had collected a somewhat broken heart, maintained a few friendships, and entered smoothly into the dull reality of adult life. Yamaguchi was something else entirely. His life had a massive hole, a missing piece tucked into some secret place. Tsukishima had no idea what the story was there. He doubted he ever would. 

He woke up several times to Yamaguchi's stirring, his consistent worry. It wasn't easy. 

The next morning, the three men sat around the living room. Kuroo angrily sipped his coffee. He still hadn't told Kenma that Yamaguchi had reappeared, and it was weighing on him. He saw the severity of the situation, though, and agreed to silence as long as Kenma was overseas. Kuroo despised lying to his husband. Tsukishima was folded into the grey couch, watching a documentary on komodo dragons, and Yamaguchi thumbed the pages of a book, some old Russian classic called _Crime and Punishment._

"What are you reading that for?", Kuroo huffed, "You know it's about _thieves_ , right?"

Tsukishima leaned back, not interested in the other's bickering, "Kuroo, shut up." 

Yamaguchi gave Kuroo an exasperated look. They had developed a bit of a banter that bordered on genuine complaint. It annoyed Tsukishima, but he was glad they had resolved their brief hostility towards one another. "I know. I just like the author, Dostoevsky." 

"Oh, yeah? What's your favorite book by him?" 

Yamaguchi looked forward, staring off into nothing. "The Gambler." 

On the tv, a Komodo dragon scarfed down some carrion, flicking its tongue in and out of it's mouth. Yamaguchi closed the book. 

"Turn the TV off." 

"What?" 

"Turn the TV off." 

Tsukishima did. Yamaguchi stood, alert, his eyes wild. He took a gun from the inner lining of his jacket. "Do not- in my house-", Kuroo hissed, but Yamaguchi cut him off with a "Shh!" 

Without looking at Kuroo and Tsukishima, he spoke quietly. "Get upstairs. Someone's here." 

"Yamaguchi..." 

Tsukishima sounded a bit pained, though he was trying to be comforting. Yamaguchi was stretched so thin, so deeply antagonized by memory, moments like this were now constantly happening. He and Kuroo had quietly noted the day before when Yamaguchi started wearing the beat up, old dark jacket around the house that contained the pistol. It made Tsukishima's heart sink, a bit. He didn't want the other man to be embarrassed when his assailant turned out to be as imaginary as the other noises that disturbed him. 

"Upstairs, please." 

Tsukishima looked at Kuroo, who shrugged. He and Tsukishima slowly countered the stairs, Yamaguchi guarding the way behind them. They ducked into the mast bedroom, sitting behind the large framed bed, Yamaguchi barely peaking out over the side. His gun was still drawn. 

Minutes passed. Silence. 

Kuroo looked at Yamaguchi with pity, then at Tsukishima. He nudged the blond, slightly. Tsukishima awkwardly placed a hand on Yamaguchi's shoulder. "I don't... I don't think anyone is here. Do you want to go try to rest some-" 

The sound of the front door opening from downstairs echoed through the house. Tsukishima and Kuroo were immediately at attention. Someone was here. Kuroo put a hand up to where he had been hit the last time the house had been broken into, his face hardening. Tsukishima's heart thundered through his body. There was a crash, then some shuffling of feet. 

Yamaguchi cocked his head to the side, then nodded to himself. "It's one person, maybe two, at the very most." He stood. "I'm going to go sort this out." His face was vacant again, so strange and distant. 

"We're coming with you.", Tsukishima said. 

Kuroo nodded in agreement. He rifled through the bedside table's drawer and extracted a pink taser. The two other men gave him a look, but Kuroo simply turned off the safety. "Bought it after the break in." Yamaguchi realized he couldn't argue with them. 

Slowly, slowly. 

Yamaguchi turned each corner so sharply, like the men Tsukishima had seen in cop shows. This wasn't acting, though. The sounds continued from downstairs. He found himself wishing he had something in his hands. So, this was the fear Yamaguchi always had. The terror that an any time, someone who wanted to hurt you could find you. Could be just beyond a flight of stairs. His nightmares made more and more sense each day. They descended without noise, too scared to breathe, to even sweat. Yamaguchi led the way, a steeliness in his eyes. 

It was the calmest Tsukishima had seen him in days. 

Another crash, followed by a "Ah, shit-" 

Tsukishima registered that the voice was familiar as they sprang from around the corner, but it was already too late. Yamaguchi, gun pointed. Kuroo, taser drawn. Tsukishima, just there but hopefully exuding some kind of intimidating aura. 

Bokuto Kotaro, one of Japan's top professional volleyball players, stared at them, his mouth gaping open. There was some broken glass in front of him, a cup that had been knocked off the counter. His fiancee, Akaashi Keiji reentered the room with a broom from the houses's cupboard, "Honestly, Bokuto-San, you need to watch where you're-" 

He stopped in his tracks when he saw Kuroo, Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima. "Oh, my." 

"Not the weirdest thing to happen when I've entered a room within the last month." It was a poor joke, one to make up for the multiple layers of shock that were visible in Bokuto's face. 

"Jesus! Fuck, man. You scared us.", Kuroo groaned, setting the taser on the kitchen table. Tsukishima lightly touched Yamaguchi's arm, a signal for the gun to go down. He noticed the way Akaashi's eyes were glued to the pistol. It wasn't often one saw one in Japan. Bokuto followed his fiancee's gaze, now more curious than surprised, "Aren't you, oh yeah. You're the Karasuno kid that died? From Hinata's year?" 

"Bokuto, you can't ask people if they died. And he clearly hasn't.", Akaashi mumbled, looking a bit green. 

"Let's all take a breath.", Tsukishima mildly suggested, a twinge of annoyance rising in him. He always had found Bokuto to be a uniquely frustrating individual, dense and unpredictable. Maintaining his friendship with Kuroo over the years had meant some unfortunate exposure to Bokuto, though Tsukishima did have a kinder view of his better half, Akaashi. They could have some enjoyable, normal conversations alongside Kenma whenever Kuroo and Bokuto were deep in their antics. 

But this was different, this was dangerous. 

Nobody was supposed to know about Yamaguchi. With his luck and Bokuto's brains, it would not have surprised Tsukishima if Bokuto casually mentioned it on national television, or worse, to Hinata. Thankfully, Kuroo had great skill at communicating with the famed outside hitter. "Bo, my guy, you and Akaashi should sit down. We've had a weird week." 

Tsukishima quietly helped Yamaguchi make tea, as Kuroo explained the situation. Bokuto and Akaashi, who normally lived in Osaka, had been trying to see Kuroo, since Akaashi's work with publishing had brought him to Tokyo for a business trip. The gun, the pink taser, and the story they received were entirely not what they had had in mind for their visit.

"You totally texted me back earlier this week that it was okay to come by." 

"Agh, did I? Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, look." 

The text confirmed it. Kuroo groaned, "I'm such an absentminded idiot." 

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima sat in the library as Kuroo spoke to the couple. He had the sense not to mention the Eye of the Moon, or Yamaguchi's specific ties to crime. Every few minutes, they could hear Bokuto yell something in excitement or disbelief. 

"You pulled a BULLET out of HIM?" 

"The house got broken into??" 

"OOOH Shit. Kenma is gonna be pissed, man!" 

Tsukishima watched Yamaguchi listen, sipping his tea. "How do you feel?" Yamaguchi frowned, turning. "What do you mean? In general, or about this?" "Both." 

He absentmindedly thumbed through Kuroo's books, great chemical tomes, classics, a ridiculous amount of Shonen Jumps that were lined up by date published. The shelves of the library was one of the only organized spaces in the house. 

"Well... this is. Not great. Every person who knows that I'm alive is both at risk and a risk. For you and Kuroo.. we're all kind of holed up in this house together. But I don't know Bokuto and Akaashi well. I only met them a few times, briefly. It's not..." 

He sighed, leaning his forehead against the one of the wooden divots, "Exactly favorable... no." 

Tsukishima nodded. He just wanted to lift the burden of Yamaguchi's anxieties. If it meant turning back time, reliving all the eight years that had past just so he could keep a closer eye on the man, so be it.

"I..I just want you to feel safe again.", he muttered, unable to look at Yamaguchi. 

Yamaguchi gazed back at him, a small and discreet smile playing over his lips. "I know I'm jumpy. And paranoid. But... I do. I do feel safe here. That's why I came." 

Tsukishima raised his eyebrows, surprised. Sometimes, this new Yamaguchi spoke so confidently. He acted that way, too. Like when he pulled Tsukishima into bed with him, or when he had given advice to treat Kuroo's possible concussion. He could comfortably give instruction. It slipped out in the strangest ways. Tsukishima felt like it was his responsibility to protect Yamaguchi, but Yamaguchi was the one who had put his body between them and the home intruders... even if it had just been Bokuto and Akaashi. 

Tsukishima did not understand the dynamic between them anymore than he could understand his own feelings. Relief, or something deeper? 

"YAMAGUCHI!", Bokuto called from the other room. 

Tsukishima offered Yamaguchi a hand, supporting him as he walked back to the couch. 

"Can I hold your gun?", Bokuto asked, all puppy eyed. "No.", Akaashi interjected, before Bokuto could even receive an answer. It was better that way. 

The four men sat, staring at one another. "It all feels a bit unreal, but I'm glad you're safe and within good hands.", Akaashi said with a polite nod to Yamaguchi, who gratefully returned the gesture. 

"I won't say anything. Swear", Bokuto said in the most solemn tone he could muster. 

The tension deflated. "Thank you." Yamaguchi's voice was all shy and quiet, the timidity Tsukishima knew well had reentered his vocabulary. It was like they were all young again, when they had first met at the Tokyo Summer Training Camp. He remembered how Yamaguchi had been so intimidated by the older players, and now here they all were, so many years later. Under the strangest of circumstances. 

It was then, in that small way, that Tsukishima realized not too much had changed. There may be a gap in Yamaguchi's life, a period of difficulty Tsukishima would never understand, but they were all still so similar. They had grown up together. The time apart couldn't rob them of those formative moments. 

Kuroo invited Akaashi and Bokuto to stay for lunch. Bokuto asked if he could check out Kuroo's taser, which Akaashi instantly vetoed. 

Tsukishima watched as Yamaguchi curled up back into the couch, his book propped against his knee. He sat down beside him, and it was like they were back within their own little world. He noticed, as he read, that Yamaguchi wasn't looking up so much, except for when someone in the room said something interesting, or remarkably stupid. Then, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi would share a glance, like they often had, their eyes in a constant state of agreement. He turned a page, content. Tsukishima leaned over his shoulder, trying to follow the story.

Yamaguchi didn't even flinch when Bokuto dropped another glass. 


	16. Always

Yamaguchi started watching the window in a different way, and Tsukishima noticed. The days that had passed had been good and tolerable, content in the kind of ease that becomes tiresome. Yamaguchi read, Kuroo worked in his study, and Tsukishima watched more nature documentaries. The malaise of boredom was sinking in, and Tsukishima had to remind himself to be grateful for how unintruded their life was. The deep gash on Yamaguchi's chest was beginning to heal nicely and his strength was coming back. He could move around the house fluidly without gripping anything for support. 

Tsukishima sat on the bed, watching as the other man changed the dressing on the wound in the mirror. He was captivated by the deft movement of his fingers, their careful, experienced motion. 

Every single night, Tsukishima had fallen asleep thinking about the last time he had seen Yamaguchi, what the man had said to him. It hadn't been discussed between the two of them, and Tsukishima wondered if it ever would be. So much time had passed, he doubted Yamaguchi would still feel the same way, and Tsukishima himself was not entirely sure of his own feelings. He was beginning to understand, however, that they extended deeper than relief. He wanted to be as close as possible to Yamaguchi in any given moment, to hold him tight, not so that he would be unable to leave, but so that he would feel protected.

And.. it was possible, that Tsukishima had felt that way since the day he had met him. 

The night before, Tsukishima had nearly subjected himself to a mortifying ordeal in the pursuit of some answers. He knocked softly on Kuroo's door, as Yamaguchi cooked dinner downstairs. 

"Sup?"

"I wanted to ask you, well, how-"

Tsukishima shut the door behind himself, antsy. If he said it out loud, it would make it real. His pulse quickened. Kuroo was surrounded by books on his bed, laying with his feet up against the wall, his head hanging off the end of the frame. Tsukishima frowned, "Why the fuck are you sitting like that?" 

"It's good for thinking!" 

_Maybe seeking advice from Kuroo was a mistake._

"What do you want, DinoBoy?" 

_Seeking advice from Kuroo was a mistake._

"Nothing. It's nothing. Dinner will be ready soon." 

In the present, Yamaguchi smoothed a hand over his bandage, put his shirt back on, then caught Tsukishima's eye in the mirror. He smiled, and Tsukishima felt like he was glowing. He wanted to look at him smile just a bit longer, but when Yamaguchi reentered the main room, he was gazing out the window with that wistful expression on his face again. 

"Hey." 

"Tsukishima?" 

The blonde extracted a bag from the cupboard, removing sunglasses and a hat. He tossed them to Yamaguchi. "Let's go outside today. On a walk. I know you want to." Yamaguchi looked at the sunglasses, uncertain. "But what if..." Tsukishima leaned up against the window, looking at the golden spread of mid afternoon, "I have a feeling it will be ok. I have to get groceries, anyways. Come with me." 

Yamaguchi smiled softly, tucking his hair into a neat bun beneath the hat. He pulled the sunglasses low over his nose, "I guess a short trip can't hurt." 

Tsukishima sent Kuroo a text they would briefly be going out, and that Kuroo shouldn't be worried unless he didn't hear from them within an hour. He and Yamaguchi walked side by side, but Yamaguchi stopped just before he could cross the front yard's gate. 

A flash on panic ran through the long haired man. This was the first time he would be leaving the property in nearly two weeks. The security that had been built up for him here did not exist outside of this border. Tsukishima gently slipped his arm through the crook of Yamaguchi's elbow, kindly pulling him forward. Yamaguchi swallowed his nerves, allowing himself to be moved along. 

They walked arm and arm up the wide, shady street. Denenchofu really did have a kind of beauty to it with all of the gardens. It was probably one of the closet places to Miyagi in urban Tokyo. The Tama River snaked through the landscape, homes and stores peacefully placed along it's banks. He and Yamaguchi leaned over the side, staring at their blurry, disrupted reflections in the murk. Yamaguchi made a face at his reflection, sticking out his tongue. "Stupid.", Tsukishima chuckled. 

"Sorry." 

The supermarket was within a seven minute stride from Kuroo's. Tsukishima extracted a grocery list and set about collecting items, a basket in hand, Yamaguchi trailing behind. After a moment, he stopped, looking around the supermarket. Tsukishima turned, watching the other man stare off. Yamaguchi hung his head, looking at his hands. Tsukishima wished he wasn't wearing the sunglasses, so he could fully see his expression. Finally, Yamaguchi spoke.

"Do you remember Makoto Shimada?" 

"The Shimada Mart guy, the one that taught you serves?" 

"Yeah." 

Tsukishima added some soba noodles to the basket, "You know, when you first went missing, he put up these posters with your face on it all over the supermarket. And anywhere else people would let him. You should see about giving him a call... when you can." 

Yamaguchi looked away, "Hopefully, soon, that will be possible." 

Tsukishima found himself regretting his comment about the posters. Now Yamaguchi looked all depressed, even with the sunglasses on. Tsukshima huffed, turning to the produce section. He lamented how much of an asshole he was, how clumsy he could be with feelings, even with his own, god, how would ever be able to tell Yamaguchi that he loved him if he couldn't even manage a simple conversa- 

_WAIT._

The little thought had slipped out, shattering any pretense Tsukishima had inwardly maintained for so long. _Love. I'm in love with him?_

_Fuck. Shit. Jesus Christ._

It wasn't red roses, candlelit dinners. It wasn't like the polite dates he had taken Ikumi on, it wasn't quite like anything else. It was seeing the longevity of a person, living in perfect comfort with them. It was the growing they had done, together and apart, from youth to adulthood. It was the despair of his absence, the cataclysmic relief of his return. 

Tsukishima had always, somehow, known that he wanted to spend his whole life with Yamaguchi. 

He now knew the truth, the deep, intensity of that belief. What it really meant. And thank god, he hadn't had to ask Kuroo.

He loved Yamaguchi. He was in love with him. In all the moments he had been gone, Tsukishima had been loving him. _Obviously. Stupid. I'm so dumb._ How ridiculous he had been, to deny those feelings for so long. 

He turned, abruptly and impatiently, to where he thought Yamaguchi was standing, but he was gone. Tsukishima quickly walked through the aisles, around the store, but Yamaguchi was nowhere to be seen. Panic bloomed inside of Tsukishima. He dropped the grocery basket and ran out into the street, scanning the face of every person that passed. _No, no, no, no!_ Visions of men in suits snatching him away, visions of Yamaguchi bleeding out in some alleyway, the horror of the idea surged through him. 

"TADASHI!" 

He ran blindly, looking all around, ignoring the strange looks from families going about their shopping.

"TADASHI!" 

Tsukishima pulled out his phone, ready to call Kuroo in despair, but then- "Are you okay?" The familiar voice gave him a shock of relief. He turned around, sharply, holding Yamaguchi tight to his chest. "Are you fucking stupid? Are you an idiot? You just gave me a goddamn heart attack, running off like that, when you know-" 

"I just-" 

Yamaguchi stepped back, holding up two McDonald's happy meals from the store that was at the end of the street. 

"S-sorry Tsukki. Wait, you said not to call you that anymore. Sorry-" 

Tsukishima's breathing slowed. He bent down, briefly collecting himself, "It's fine- it's fine." 

"No, you're right, I should've said something before I left."

"Yeah, you should've, but it's fine. For you to call me Tsukki." 

Yamaguchi looked at him with a kind of wonder, then smiled. He handed Tsukishima a happy meal. The two men walked in silence, the blonde still catching his breath, still reeling from his discovery, until they found themselves sitting by the river, across from where a fancy restaurant was preparing for dinner services. Yamaguchi neatly unboxed his chicken nuggets, a mere formality before he began extracting the fries from their waxpaper wrapping, the true target of the meal. Tsukishima absentmindedly picked out the ones that were especially soggy, passing them wordlessly to Yamaguchi.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows. In the distance, they could see the skyline of downtown. 

Yamaguchi pointed at the waiters setting up, "The zookeeper uniform is nice and all, but you should get one like that." 

Tsukishima wrinkled his nose at the blazer wearing men. 

"That's worse." 

"They have little bowties, though!" 

"Hrmph." 

He turned to look at Yamaguchi. The man looked beautiful silhouetted in the orange glow of the dying sun, radiant. Like an angel in cheap sunglasses. A bit of a laugh bubbled out of Tsukishima, surprising both of them.

"What?" 

"Do you remember when Kageyama went to go spy on Aoba Johsai, and he put on that stupid hat and sunglasses as a disguise. That's what you look like, now." 

"Tsukkiiii!" 

He really liked hearing Yamaguchi say that again. They laid down in the grass side by side, watching as the sun dipped further in the sky. Tsukishima did not like waiting. He did not like the tension in his stomach, or the flutter in his heart when he listened to Yamaguchi exhale softly. He propped himself up on an elbow to look at the other man, approaching the topic of conversation he had evaded since Yamaguchi's return. 

"Do you remember the last time we saw each other?" 

Yamaguchi looked up at him from behind the glasses. There was a long pause, but when he spoke, he sounded a bit guarded, but calm. "Of course." 

"I understand what you mean, now. About having to wait. And wanting. I hope... I didn't take too long." 

Yamaguchi smiled, "Are we finally on the same page, Kei?" 

Tsukishima leaned down and kissed him. On the mouth, properly this time. The air felt a bit warmer, the glow of the setting sun a bit brighter, and for once, for a brief moment, Tokyo fell completely silent.

When that moment ended, everything was still the same... well, maybe it was a bit better. 

It simply felt right. 

"I think we are, Tadashi." 


	17. What He Wants

Everything fell into place in the few weeks that passed after. There was an endless amount of quality time to be had. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima made the house a world of their own. They had picnics in the backyard, movie nights, and were even able to finish an 1,000 piece puzzle through their combined will power. It was the unexpected moments, though, that Tsukishima felt were best utilized. Waking up and seeing Yamaguchi first thing in the morning, or when Yamaguchi would pause from what he was reading to excitedly recount what had happened in the story. The smallest things. Every night they would lay side by side, not quite touching, sometimes accompanied with the smallest flutter of kissing-though neither were used to that quite yet. They were taking their time, which made the acts of intimacy that did occur all the more special. 

Sometimes, cars would be parked outside the house for suspiciously long amounts of time.

Sometimes, Yamaguchi would wake up in the middle of the night, nearly screaming. Tsukishima would stay up with him until he was able to fall back asleep.

Sometimes, often, they were reminded that their situation was not normal.

But.. the two young men were happier than they had been in recent memory. They felt safe within the space they were creating for each other.

Tsukishima had been blunt about their relationship's evolution the day they had returned home from the grocery shopping trip. He had marched up to Kuroo's room, where the man was laying on his stomach, finishing a FaceTime call with Kenma.   
"I love you."   
"Love you, too."   
He noticed Tsukishima hovering in the door and beckoned him over, "Come say hi to Kenma."   
Tsukishima awkwardly entered, waving to the small image of the blonde. Kenma had on a little hat and sunglasses. Palm trees could be seen behind him. It didn't look like a very Kenma-esque location, but he seemed happy by his own standards. Kenma nodded a hello.  
"Okay, okay, okay. Love you. See you soon. Call me before you go to bed."   
"Kuroo, it will be so late at night."   
"Don't care. Bye!"

Kuroo sighed as soon as the call closed out and rolled onto his back. He seemed lost in thought for a second, then turned to Tsukishima, "Wassup?"

"I have determined that I like Yamaguchi."

Kuroo was not amused, "Yeah, I could've told you that."

"No, I'm attracted to him."

"Mhm."

Tsukishima scowled, still hovering somewhat in the bedroom's doorway. Kuroo smiled at him, trying to be a bit more gentle. He was not always good at these kinds of things. He had the habit of rambling his way through heavier moments. Kuroo sat up, scratching his head. "So... uh... do you wanna do that unpack thing people usually want to do when they come to.. terms? I guess? With their sexuality? Y'know, back in high school, we had this terrible group chat for all the guys who liked guys, me, Oikawa, Bokuto.. Kenma hated it. Pity you didn't figure it out sooner, honestly, the memes were good-"

"I don't. I don't know about all that. Okay?" Tsukishima looked away, self conscious. "I just know I like Yamaguchi."

Kuroo folded his hands under his chin, "Oh, so it's like a soulmate thing-"

Tsukishima quickly closed the door behind him, "NEVERMIND."

Soulmate. The words bounced around in his head for awhile, but it felt very big. Very frightening. He decided to put it away for the time being.

Yamaguchi was laying sideways, his head on Tsukishima's lap, the TV narrating something about frogs. Kuroo came in, briefly looked at them, and raised an eyebrow. Tsukishima rested a hand on Yamaguchi's head, staring back.

"Can I help you?"

"You have literally taken over my house", Kuroo laughed.   
He was happy, seeing the pair in such a domestic way. "Yeah, and it's cleaner than it's ever been.", Tsukishima responded lazily, leaning his head against the back of the sofa. Yamaguchi chuckled slightly, so Kuroo gave him a side eye, "Cool it, Freckles."   
The tall, raven haired man joined them on the couch. He wrinkled his nose as the frog on the TV snapped a tongue out, taking in a dragon fly. Ek.   
"Friendly reminder that Kenma will be back in two days. We need to figure out how to have a conversation with him about all this", Kuroo muttered, still a bit queasy from the sight of the creepy, elongated amphibian tongue lashing through the air. Tsukishima nodded, "Are you excited? For him to be home, I mean."

The smile that stretched over Kuroo's face was unmeasurable. "I don't think I've ever been more excited for anything."

So much had happened within four weeks, it felt unreal. Though the experience ranged from a dream to a nightmare, Tsukishima had discovered, or rediscovered the most valuable thing in his life. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through Yamaguchi's hair. How lucky he felt, to be here. To be with the people he loved. He smiled a bit, finally understanding the way Kuroo felt about Kenma.   
It wasn't all easy.   
Life was moving so fast, but Tsukishima was enjoying every second.

There's a balance to joy, though. Joy only exists because it is temporary. To be filled with joy is a sneaky curse of living, second only to death. Moments of pure, uninterrupted happiness are only possible because they are framed by despair, or at the very least a kind of unremarkability. Maybe there was a karmic imbalance effecting his life. One month of light could not make up for eight years of perpetuated hurt, no matter how bright and blinding. Tsuksihima enjoyed practicality. He didn't like to think about universal leveraging, it seemed foolish to him.   
  


He didn't think about it, so it was shocking when he woke up to Yamaguchi trembling beside him.   
  


The air around him felt warmer, and when Tsukishima brought his hand to his forehead, it was hot, hot to the touch. The man was feverish with sweat. Then, Tsukishima noticed the thin, slow moving trail of blood seeping from behind white gauze. The wound that had been healing so well had somehow reopened, bringing sickness and tremor. Tsukishima unlocked his phone, seeing it was around five in the morning. He procured a wet washcloth from the bathroom, pressing it to Yamaguchi's head. Yamaguchi stopped shaking, calmer beneath the cool, but still warm to the touch. Tsukishima kneeled on the mattress, switching out the cloth until the world outside progressed into morning. When the sun had settled, he went to the main house to get some pain relievers, disinfectant, and advice from Kuroo the fake doctor.

Kuroo was making coffee at the machine. "Morning."

"Tadashi's sick. Sick sick. He's burning up, and his cut's reopened."

"Shit."

Kuroo dug into the medicine cabinet, extracting fresh bandages and some Tylenol to cut the fever. He laid the items neatly on the counter, pausing to hold up a small black thumb drive.

"Is this yours?"

Tsukishima gathered the supplies, already en route towards the apartment, "No." Kuroo's tone was measured. It stopped him in his tracks.

"See. That's strange, because it was sitting on the counter with a small note that said Watch Me."

Tsukishima turned back around. They exchanged a look, and Kuroo quietly retrieved his laptop from upstairs. A tension had sprang into the air, cold and unrelenting. Kuroo sat down at the kitchen table, Tsukishima standing behind him. He began to input his password. "Type faster", Tsukishima muttered. Kuroo gave him a look, unlocking the laptop, inserting the drive. 

Inside was a singular folder, containing a video. 

Kuroo pressed play. 

A stool sat in front of a white background. It looked like a sheet that had been hung. Kuroo turned the volume louder. Footsteps could be heard, and a small, familiar man was suddenly dragged into frame, a barrel of a gun pressed against his head. 

"...Kenma?", Tsukishima stuttered. Kuroo was completely silent, his eyes fixed to the screen. 

The Kenma in the video looked terrible, heavy bags collecting under his eyes, heavier than usual. The hand holding the gun nudged his head, using the barrel to turn his cheek to look at something just beyond the camera. Kenma's eyes moved like they were reading a sign that was being held off screen. 

"Tadashi Yamaguchi.." 

A man's voice told him to speak up. Kenma's eyes flicked towards the sound, gazing with insurmountable irritation, until the gun was pressed tighter to his head. He swallowed.

"Tadashi Yamaguchi, in a week's time, you must bring the Eye of the Moon to Harumi Wharf at midnight. If you fail.. if you fail to return the stone to us by then-" 

Kenma stopped, his eyes widening. He looked up at the unseen figure with the gun, who simply used the end of the pistol to push his face back in the direction of the sign. 

"Then... then Kozume Kenma dies. In each week that follows where you fail to comply, or if you ever seek police assistance, then a-another resident of 2-26-18 Denenchofu will die. Thank you.. for your t-time." 

Kenma was roughly grabbed by the arm to be brought out of the video, but he kicked at his captor, "What the fuck? What the fuck is this shit, who are you-" He tried to wrestle himself away, unsuccessfully struggling. The video ended abruptly with Kenma looking wildly at the camera, the sound of a gun cocking echoing through the laptop speakers. 

Tsukishima turned to look at Kuroo, and he saw his friend break before his eyes. 

"Kuroo?" 

Kuroo sat, staring at the frozen image his husband. Tsukishima lightly reached out and touched him. Kuroo instantly stiffened, but then began to laugh. It was an awful, horrible sound, entirely different from the man's already strange way of laughing. He tossed his head back, unable to breath. 

"Kuroo?" 

"This.. this is some sick fuck's idea of a joke, right? This can't- this can't be real? Don't you think, Tsukishima?" 

Kuroo's eyes were manic, shattered. He whipped his phone out and called Kenma's number. No answer. He called him again, nothing. Kuroo's hands shook terribly. Tsukishima knew that Kenma was no actor, but he gently suggested, "Why don't we call his hotel?" 

Kuroo rang up the number, sending the concierge to see if his husband was in his room, but they found no one within the suite. The suitcase was still there, and the bed looked unslept in. Kuroo pressed the phone into his forehead. "Oh- oh. Lev. Lev's in Los Angeles. They've been hanging out. I bet. I bet they're just together, or out, so Kenma's not answering his phone. I'll call Lev!" He rapid scrolled through his contacts, setting the call to speaker. Lev sleepily answered on the third ring. "Kuroo?" 

"Hey. Hey. Is Kenma with you?" 

"No. Why?" 

"When did you last see him?" 

"Uhhh.. at this point, like three days ago? Is everything ok?" 

Kuroo hung up the phone before answering, gripping the device tightly. "When's the... when's the last time you talked to him?". Tsukishima couldn't help but flinch when Kuroo looked at him. The expression on his friend's face was a kind of terrifying he had never witnessed. "Two days ago. I assumed.. I assumed he was busy because he was going to be traveling here by now-" 

Kuroo looked in the direction of the garage apartment, a danger entering his eyes. He took off sprinting in that direction, Tsukishima chasing after him, "Kuroo!" If his bare feet hurt on the gravel path, he didn't acknowledge it. Kuroo flew up the steps like a demon tearing through hell, flinging the door open. 

"YAMAGUCHI." 

Tsukishima was right on his heels, "Kuroo!" 

Yamaguchi stirred slightly in his fever addled state. Kuroo yanked him upwards to seating position, crouched over him in bed. "Where. The fuck. Is my husband." 

"Kuroo, he's really sick. He's not going to be able to answer you." 

Yamaguchi's head rolled back, his eyelids fluttering. He made a hoarse noise from within his throat, his breath rattling. Kuroo ignored Tsukishima and shook him like a ragdoll, "WHERE THE FUCK IS MY HUSBAND?" Yamaguchi gasped, half conscious, pressing his hand against the wound at his side, which was now bleeding more heavily from the movement. Tsukishima wrestled Kuroo away from him, prying at his fingers. Kuroo tried to fight him off, "Where- WHERE'S KENMA- WHERE DID THEY TAKE HIM-" 

He slipped out of Tsukishima's hold and tried to grab Yamaguchi, pulling at his arm, dragging him from the bed. Yamaguchi made a small noise of pain and Tsukishima put himself between the two men, using his elbow to slam Kuroo against the wall, tightly pining him by the throat. 

"Do not touch him again. I swear to god, Kuroo. I will not let you touch him." 

They stared each other down, both possessed by a primal fury. Their eyes were full of rage, though Kuroo's was wilder, whereas Tsukshima's anger was cold and calculated. He pressed his elbow a bit harder into Kuroo's throat.

"I know you're freaking out, but he can't even speak. You need to calm down." 

Kuroo gave an almost imperceptible nod. Tsukishima released him and he sunk to the floor, coughing. He stayed on the ground, sobbing, the act taking over his whole body. It made him look small. Tsukishima gently picked Yamaguchi up, placing his back in bed. The green haired man curled his body around him, whimpering softly. Blood continued to ooze slowly through the bandage. His whole being burned to the touch. _Hospital,_ Tsukishima thought _._

Kuroo grew quiet, the hyperventilating sobs traded for weeping, which was possibly worse. It reeked of despair. His shoulders shook, he breathed in low, even gasps. Every tiny noise he made struck Tsukishima through the heart. When he was sure that Kuroo wasn't going to try anything else crazy, he quietly got up, bringing in the medical supplies from the main house, along with a small cup of tea. He set the tea on the floor beside Kuroo, then set about treating Yamaguchi. 

The wound beneath the bandages was yellowed around the edges. He dabbed disinfectant on, but Yamaguchi didn't even react to the sting. He rebandaged him, propping the man's head up, forcing some Tylenol down his throat. Tsukishima held Yamaguchi's mouth open, pouring small amounts of water into it so he wouldn't become dehydrated. Yamaguchi's eyes briefly opened, staring into Tsukishima's own, and he felt like he was looking at his whole world. The moment was quickly over, though, and Yamaguchi returned to his less than aware state. Tsukishima held him close to his body, nearly overwhelmed by his own anguish. 

Yamaguchi, Kenma..

He wanted, so desperately, more than anything- he wanted the people he cared about to be safe.

Kuroo sat with his back against the wall, staring numbly ahead, fumbling with the mug of tea. When he spoke, his voice was cracked and hollow.

"Kei.... what are we going to do?" 

Tsukishima pressed his face against Yamaguchi's hair, then looked back up at his friend. The determination inside of him was growing. 

"Isn't it obvious?" 

"Isn't what obvious?" 

"We're going to steal the Eye of the Moon."


	18. Kenma's Chapter: Tales From A Sunny Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hello, hello! thank you so much for reading the story thus far!!
> 
> this next chapter is a special, long one. I like to think all three of my Haikyuu fanfics exist in the same kind of AU I created, starting with I'll Carry Your Weight. This book is meant to be somewhat of a spinoff to that story, although it can/ does completely stand on it's own.
> 
> If you haven't read I'll Carry Your Weight, it totally doesn't matter and you're not losing anything from this story! That book follows Kuroo and Kenma's relationship to high school. 
> 
> I wanted to write a mid book chapter in The Man Who Ran Off With The Moon that covers what Kenma has been doing in Los Angeles partially as a nod to my first fanfic, partially as an interesting writing excercise, and partially because I live in LA and I was very enamored with the idea of Kenma in my city.
> 
> Think of this chapter as like a mid season OVA. An extra story that isn't necessary, but it's fun, and it will only add to the understanding of the side characters in this book. 
> 
> You can totally skip it, if you want, the rest of what happens is not affected by the information here. This chapter stands alone. All other chapters will be back to your regularly scheduled programming!
> 
> It's written in first person, from Kenma's perspective.
> 
> Thank you for your support!

I sat on the stair landing, smelling like cleaning supplies.

Even though a salon was perfectly affordable to me now, I simply liked dyeing my own hair. It had been a nice ritual in my life since high school, one that I was even more enthusiastic about now that I had Kuroo to help me. I watched as my husband- my husband, my husband. The term made me so self conscious. I'd blush like a kid if I even so much thought it.

There's a lot of truth to that old saying that you're supposed to marry your best friend.

You have to find someone that thinks better of you than you do of yourself, someone who can make you laugh in that loud kind of way reserved for only those you trust to hear. Marry a funny person. Marry someone you can cry with. Marry someone who is infinitely passionate, but supports you in your own goals. If you have the opportunity, marry the guy who finds gross, sweaty teenage you as beautiful as the slightly less gross, non sweaty adult you.

Life doesn't have a lot of cheat codes for happiness. The only one I know of is Kuroo.

I turned the silver wedding band on my finger and watched as he fought Tsukishima, trying to get the blonde to allow him to carry the singular moving box he had with him. Tsukishima ignored him and trudged on to our garage apartment, his head held high. I sighed. The timer of my phone went off. I went back to the bathroom, turning on the shower, peeling the plastic processing bag off my head. The toner clung to my hair in sticky, crusty chunks. Ek. I slowly combed it out under the warm water.

"Kenma!", Kuroo yelled through the door.

"What?"

"Tsukishima's all settled into the apartment."

I really, really could not hear him over the shower, "WHAT?"

"I said," he huffed, opting to just open the door, "He's all settled into the apartment."

I nodded, aggressively trying to shampoo out the product. "Cool."

Kuroo looked at me for a moment. I could barely make out his outline through the steamy glass, but I could feel his gaze on me, filling me with a kind of warmth. I rubbed at the condensation, making a small window in the mist to look back at him. Kuroo beamed as I drew a little heart to go with it.

"Awwww."

"Shut up."

"Can I come shower with you?"

I grinned, a little evilly. "No. Go make dinner."

My husband rolled his eyes and flipped me off. I returned the gesture. Being in love is fantastic.

Kuroo had used our leftover rice to make zosui, which had become a favorite of mine as of late. I slurped the soup gratefully, "Does Tsukishima want food?" Kuroo winced, "I'm gonna guess no." I nodded. Convincing him to stay here had already been trouble enough, providing him home cooked meals would probably be insult to injury. Of all the people Kuroo and I kept up with, he was one of the few that I would have allowed to stay on our property for a period of time. Tsukishima was smart, responsible. He wasn't so different from when I first met him, which was both a good and bad thing. We hadn't known his friend well, the one who went missing. I remembered the pair of them at that summer training camp, how they were always within their own space, laughing, talking quietly amongst themselves. It had reminded me a lot of Kuroo and I, before I made more of an effort to open myself a bit to Nekoma's volleyball team. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose someone I cared for to a condition of such uncertainty. Yamaguchi's disappearance had stagnated Tsukishima. There was a need within him that couldn't be satisfied, a need he buried under his own pride.

I was glad he would have somewhere to call home for awhile.

"Are you all packed?"

I shrugged, "I mean, probably?"

Kuroo laughed, "You are, I took care of it."

Four weeks away would be a monumental pain, but it was a small cost for being able to profit off of what I loved doing the most. The rise of the streaming industry had perfectly complimented my desire to spend as much time inside playing video games as possible, though I didn't enjoy the level of celebrity that came with it. It was something I had started back in college as a way to possibly make some extra cash, but a video of mine went viral after I played through a popular horror game without flinching. I guess it had been kind of funny. I still couldn't fathom why people enjoyed watching me play, I never spoke much in streams, I didn't bring a lot of personality into the work. Kuroo said that's what made it so appealing, how indifferent I acted. I tried not to think too much about it.

We arrived at Narita Airport at 4 am. I was taking a red eye to Los Angeles so I could have two full days to recuperate from jet lag before the convention began. Panels, collabs, signings, interviews, tournaments. Then, mangers, other collabs, meetings, sponsors, overseas distribution to discuss once the convention was done. Kuroo poked me out of the passenger seat, the thought of it all already had me exhausted. I had done one of these the year prior in Australia, but this time was different. I was traveling alone. It seemed like too long to pull Kuroo away from his own work, his dissertation, even though he had pretended like it wouldn't be a big deal. My husband didn't always know how to prioritize himself, so I made the choice for him. Kuroo held me tight, tight against his chest. I breathed in the smell of the detergent we bought, trying to memorize every intricate detail of what it felt like to be held by him.

"Passport?"

"Yep."

"Headphones?"

"Got em."

"Switch? Extra charger?"

I smiled up at him, "I promise, I'm going to be okay."

When the plane was cruising at 30,000 feet, my mind had plenty of space to wander. I looked out the window at the whole of Tokyo, the way the city was beginning to rise with the sun, but all I could think of was him. Our home. I couldn't wait to see this sight again.

Los Angeles is a terrible city.

Even at the LAX terminal, I felt dingy, my mask sitting high over my nose. I didn't want to catch whatever the people around me had, with their bright smiles, their too clean hair. It's an airport, for crying out loud. Who dresses up to get on a flight? The only people that thrive in LA are people that want something. My satisfaction with my life made me an alien here. I collected my suitcase and called a car, blissfully unrecognized, ready to re enter the nap I had been awoken from on the plane. I shot Kuroo a text that I had arrived safely and ducked into the ride share, providing the driver with my hotel's address. The concierge had trouble pronouncing my last name (he said something like Ko-zoom), but I was quickly apologized to, checked in, and in a deep, deep sleep between two starched sheets.

BZZZzzz.

BZZZZzzzzz.

BZZZZZZZZZZZ.

My fingers fumbled for my phone. Someone was daring to call me, and I was about to murder them.

"KENMAAA! WELCOME TO CALI!"

I blinked sleepily, my frustration rising. "Hi, Lev."

He laughed on the other end of the call. We had Nekoma Team reunions, every once and awhile. Yamamoto always gave me such a hard time for being the person to follow Lev into the public sphere. Lev had gone to college in New York for something dumb, I don't remember. He was scouted on the street by a modeling agency that later signed his sister, as well. The Haiba siblings were now plastered all over adverts across the continents. I couldn't even buy tooth paste without seeing Lev's face. It was exhausting, but... endearing. He lived in Malibu, and I had promised him some of my time while I was here.

"Are you ready to go sightseeing?", he chirped through the phone.

"I just got here. I'm sleeping", I mumbled.

"No, you flew in yesterday!"

 _Shit._ I had been out an entire day and a night. If I didn't get out of bed now, I would have no hope of adapting to the western time zone. I painfully swung my feet of the mattress, "Guess I'll see you soon, then."

Lev said he would come pick me up in an hour.

I rolled, really rolled out of bed, but I quickly had to get off the floor or I knew I would just fall asleep there. I stumbled to my suitcase to lay out some fresh clothes, but I discovered Kuroo had forgotten to pack me socks. _Eughhh_. After a quick check of my phone, I discovered there was a Target right by me. My hotel, the JW Marriot, was directly by the convention center. It was likely some eager eyed fans were beginning to collect in the area but I... really wanted some fresh socks. I put on a hat and some sunglasses to try to be inconspicuous, shoving my hands deep in my pockets. I managed to heist the socks unscathed, ducking behind corners every time I saw a gaggle of teenagers roaming the area. I probably looked like a crazy person.

When Lev arrived in his chauffeured car, he was all smiles, noise, and length- as he always had been. He pulled me into a very large hug, before beginning to rattle off activities like a tourism brochure.

"We could hike up to the Hollywood sign!"

"No."

"We could do the Star Walk!"

"No."

"Let's go to the Santa Monica pier!"

"I am absolutely not going to the beach."

We ended up going to a slightly less aggressive, but still very Los Angeles-y spot, Echo Park. The park is a park, but it's also the name of the surrounding neighborhood. Los Angeles, I was coming to realize through our traffic filled drive, was like Tokyo in the way that it was a lot of different areas that had been awkwardly glued together to form a metropolis. If I had to pick one that reminded me most of Kuroo and I's home, it would be here. It was all flora and fauna, eucalyptus, anchored by the eponymous park. Lev and I sat by the lake, sipping iced coffee, watching the swan boats pass. In the distance, I could see the downtown we had just come from.   
I swirled my drink, happy to be in a place that at least felt somewhat familiar, happy to be with an old friend. Time passes in funny ways, but we are still who we are.

"How's Yaku?", I asked.

"Oh, we're broken up this week, so we aren't talking. He said on Friday we can unbreak up again."

Yaku and Lev connected romantically about a year ago, when they both happened to be in Europe for Lev's work and Yaku's volleyball at the same time. It was very unexpected for everyone that knew them, but they made it work by taking the relationship completely seriously, and not seriously at all at any given point in time. The pair enjoyed turbulence. Kuroo and I had an agreement that we would never, ever go on any kind of couples outing with them. Lev and I continued to catch up, recounting what our life had been, with Lev continuing to pressure me that I absolutely _had_ to go to the beach while I was here. I told him that wasn't happening. I despise sand. Eventually, our normalcy was disrupted by some guy with a camera, and we had to call it a day.

Back at the hotel, I ordered a room service dinner, and waited for a text back from Kuroo. Nothing. It was approaching midnight in Japan when my phone lit up, but I was quickly disappointed. Yaku had sent me an article that had already made its way to the tabloids, "LEV HAIBA OUT WITH TOP JAPANESE STREAMER, KODZUKEN!" It had a creeper shot of us at the park from earlier in the day.

**7:16 pm**

**1\. hi, hope ur doing well**  
 **2.** **will you** **tell Lev he**  
 **looks good in the picture.**

**hi yaku**  
 **no**

In the morning, I had my first convention event, a live gaming tournament against other streamers playing CS: GO. It had been fun enough, but the lack of words from Kuroo was weighing on me. It wasn't like him. As soon as I was able to discreetly slink back to my room, I Facetimed him again. My phone rang. And rang. Just before it seemed like the call wouldn't go through, he picked up, holding the camera at a terrible angle beneath his chin. My heart leapt.

"I am so, so, so sorry I didn't call sooner. I got caught up with.. dissertation stuff!"

I nodded, smiling softly, "It's ok, I understand."

"I saw your tabloid feature, very fun."

I groaned, beginning to feel more at ease, "What else has been going on at home?"

"Oh... nothing, really."

Hm. There was something about the way he spoke that inspired an anxious tugging in my stomach. In Kuroo's imaginative world, something was always happening. No matter how small, he spun stories out of each day he experienced. His fascination with life was one of the things I loved most about him. I couldn't remember the last time "nothing" was going on. I did my best to push the feeling aside. It was a perfectly reasonable response, even though it was unlike him. I did my best to savor the simple act of conversing with him, the joy of talking to my favorite person in the world who had, I learned, painstakingly woken up at 5 am just to be able to see me.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

My time in Los Angeles moved quickly, but not quickly enough. I posed for pictures, shook hands, filmed, found places to hide from the overwhelmingly social nature of the experience. Lev took me to Fairfax, some pseudo hip shopping district, which was terrible due to the high volume of awful, expensive sneakers and the amount of places where Lev's face had been used for an ad campaign. "Look! Kenma! It's me, on the building!"

The day after that misadventure, I hosted a signing. My follower base is mostly twenty something's and below, but some man in a suit wordlessly passed me a piece of my merchandise to autograph. I looked around to see if he had any kids with him, but there were none. He didn't even say hello. I was grateful for the lack of forced conversation, though a little weirded out.

Kuroo wasn't speaking to me much. Well, he was. He had been. After that stretch of radio silence at the beginning of my trip had concluded, we called twice a day. He was saying a lot, but he wasn't saying anything. There was a hollowness to his words, as if they were propped up to conceal... something. It was a feeling I had, and I didn't feel like it was based out of paranoia. I tried to talk myself out of it, because we inhabit the realities we create, but something inside of me couldn't be swayed. Kuroo and I made a point to be honest with one another. The only time we had ever really concealed anything from each other was at the very beginning of our relationship. I had neglected to tell him I liked him, he neglected to tell me about a rather troubling girlfriend of his. When we finally started dating, we had made a promise of honesty towards one another, no matter how heavy that truth was. The strength of the love that built our relationship meant that we could carry whatever weight, together.

Well.

There _was_ one point of tension we ignored. I didn't even like to think about it.   
Kuroo wanted to adopt a child. Though he pretended otherwise, it was one of the reasons we had picked the neighborhood we moved to. Denenchofu is known for being family friendly. Kuroo wanted a child to hold, to cook for. A little baby boy or girl that he could tell stories to, take to the park, someone he could rock to sleep. Kuroo had always been a caretaker, since the moment he came into my life. But I.. I wish there was a language that wasn't made up of words. I wished, often, there was a way that souls could directly speak because I didn't know how to verbally express to him how terrifying the idea of becoming a father was to me. Being responsible for the well being of a small, defenseless human person, watching them grow through life, molding them, knowing the words I say, the things I show them will shape who they become.

I was so, so terrified I would do it wrong. 

Kuroo mentioned it casually, subtly. "What should we do with the extra room upstairs?", "Oh, I heard the neighbors from down the street finally had their baby.", "You know, the population of Japan is in decline."

I'd brush him off, every time.

Maybe that was why he was acting so off. Kuroo was cooped up alone in our house, the house with extra space. We knew the most poignant moments of our life were drawing to a close. High school had finished in a burst of color, college was long passed. Our fortune was made, our relationship was strong. We had been engaged, we'd had a beautiful wedding in Kyoto. Together, we'd traveled all over the world, before determining that home was the best place to be. Kuroo and I had conquered the adventurous milestones of existing with more than enough time to spare.

All the milestones but one, the channeling of our life into another's.

I had two more days in Los Angeles. I resolved that when I returned to Tokyo, we would finally have a real talk about it. I knew Kuroo would be disappointed, but I just... couldn't. He would be an incredible father, but there was nothing inside of me that proved that I would be, too.

It wasn't a risk I was willing to take, for the sake of some little being that deserved much better than me.

For our final outing together, Lev and I went to Los Angeles's Little Tokyo. Little Tokyo is a national historic landmark, a place where many Japanese Americans have settled for centuries in Southern California. The area was illuminated by red paper lanterns, and even though it didn't really look like Tokyo, it smelled like it. We passed bakeries selling melon pan, confectionaries with mochi, restaurants that were serving katsu and other comfort dishes. This was much better than Fairfax, but I was glad Lev had saved this outing for the end of my trip. Coming sooner would've just made me homesick. I turned up to look at the tall, silver haired man. He caught my eye and smiled. I think Lev knew the kindness he had performed by taking me here now. He turned out on the square, gazing at the statue of Ninomiya Kinjiro that stood at the center. I wondered if he was thinking about home, too.

We ate at a ramen place, took some pictures with eagle eyed fans, and promised to call one another soon.

I survived my final event, a Japanese panel that featured everything from beauty gurus, to vloggers, to me. I said some hellos, and a lot of goodbyes. I was ready to pack my suitcase, sleep for a couple hours, and then get up for my 4 am flight. The only obstacle now was to get past all of the fans that had gathered. It had been the largest crowd yet. I was winding my way through the back hallways of the convention center, nearly free, when I heard a voice yell "KODZUKEN!"

_Shit._

I turned around to see a little boy, no more than ten. Thankfully, there was no frenzied mob around him, but that was concerning in a different way.

"Kodzuken! You're Kodzuken! You're the best gamer ever, I've seen all of your videos!"

The kid launched himself at me, hugging around my knees. I really hoped he had not seen all my videos. I gently peeled him off, awkwardly kneeling down so I was closer to his eye level. "Thanks. Uh. What's your name?"

"My name is Haru, at school I'm called Harry, but my Obachan says that's dumb! I'm nine! I watched you on the stage, but you didn't talk much!"

He spoke with machine gun speed. It was a little overwhelming. I looked around, no other adults in site. I guess that... I guess that made me the adult. Great. "Where are your parents, Haru?"

He spun around, realizing that he was alone. His little kid breath caught, and I had to interject before he totally freaked out. "Where'd you last see them?" 

"I was with my mom.. I-I was with my mom in the big room. But I think I walked away too far. Do you know where the big room is?"

Big room, big room. I think he was talking about the main convention floor, the place I had avoided the hardest since arriving here. Fine. Ok. Fine. I was doing this. "Yeah, I know where the big room is. Do you want to go find your mom together?" He nodded, timidly, and before I could say otherwise, he put his tiny hand in mine. We walked in complete silence. I had to take small steps to match his pace. I probably.. I should probably make conversation. Children, especially upset children, make me feel so awkward, I never know what to say. "So. Um. What's your favorite game?"

Haru's eyes lit up, "League of Legends!"

I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful he hadn't said something like Outlast. "I really like that game, too."

I mumbled some soft pointers about how he could get better at League of Legends as we approached the main floor. Haru was hanging onto my every word, gripping my hand tighter whenever I said something that excited him. We ran into some girls in, _sigh_ , Kodzuken hoodies that wanted a picture, which I obliged to after I asked them if they had seen a woman looking for her son anywhere. Haru got all shy, hiding behind me as we asked. I wanted to hide too. Word spread like wild fire through the convention hall, and in no time Haru and I were leading a procession of fans, all joining in the search for his mother. He looked up at me. "This is a lot of people", he whispered in self conscious awe. I nodded in agreement. We found her pretty quickly with their help. The poor woman had been beside herself with worry. She bowed profusely, thanking me for taking time out of my day to return her son. "It's no trouble", I said, very aware of the crowd around us. I kneeled back down to Haru. He threw his arms around my neck, squeezing way tighter than necessary, "Thank you, Mr. Kodzuken!"

I smiled and patted him on the head, "Be good, okay. Um. Don't wander off anymore."

Haru promised he wouldn't.

I didn't end up going back to my hotel. I found myself outside, in the streets of downtown. Thankfully, I had a hat and a pair of sunglasses in the bag I had brought with me for the day. My dumb disguise. I walked through the crowd, unnoticed, and found myself boarding the metro. The train wasn't as clean as the ones in Tokyo, but the sun fluttered through the windows in the same way it did back home, the world outside arriving and fading in each second of motion. I had missed taking the train. We rarely did, anymore.

My body knew my destination better than I did. I stayed on the train until the final stop.

I don't like the beach. I don't like the ocean. But for some reason, I had taken Lev's advice. Santa Monica stretched before me, wrapping around the sea in a crescent of light and industry, the pier with the ferris wheel jutting from the center. Maybe it was a terrible place, because the air was smoggy, because I saw someone putting sunglasses on their dog, but Santa Monica was kind of beautiful in it's own way. I walked through a promenade down to the beginning of the boardwalk, slipping down some side steps to reach the edge of the ocean.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Kuroo. I answered the video call, my face framed by two palm trees behind me.

"Hi.", my husband smirked. I wrinkled my nose, playfully. "Hi, yourself."

"You're all in the news, you know. Just happened. _Famous streamer Kodzuken returns lost boy to his mother_. Internet's going crazy. I wouldn't have believed it, if there wasn't a video of you leading a child through a huge crowd like you're parting the Dead Sea or something."

I rolled my eyes, the wind from the shore blowing my hair off my shoulders. "I can be a nice person."

Kuroo nodded, a pleasant expression settling on his face. "I know you can." His words were sweet, but I heard the tiniest strain of a sigh behind them. It made my heart hurt.

"Hey." I looked at him, hoping that somehow my soul could stretch thousands of miles across the ocean before me. I hoped that it could reach him. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

The sound of a door opening interrupted the video call. Kuroo looked off camera, furrowing his eyebrows. "Come say hi to Kenma."

Tsukishima entered the upmost left of my screen, giving me a blunt, two fingered wave. I nodded back. Tsukishima continued to stand in the corner, like he was trying to ask Kuroo about something. Kuroo pressed his lips together, "Okay, okay, okay. Love you. I'm gonna see you soon. Call me before you go to bed."

I gave him a look, "Kuroo, it will be so late at night."

He smiled, that smile that was worth everything to me. "Don't care. Bye!"

The call closed, and I was alone. I sat down on the beach.

The sun was setting over the water, turning the sea the color of old coins. White strings of gulls ran across the edges, calling out to one another. The ocean looked beautiful, endless, unpredictable. There would be a time when I had come and gone, when Kuroo and I were no more, our friends mere memories, a time when Lev Haiba's face would no longer be used to sell clothing. Everything, at some point, would pass and this ocean would still be here.

I wondered what, if anything, I would leave behind to continue to watch these shores.

I saw a young couple run into the cold water. I saw a kite drift through the air. I saw the slow turn of the ferris wheel. I saw a father finish a sandcastle with his daughter.   
They looked happy.

I stayed on the beach until it was dark, sitting perfectly still, the sound of the waves like my own heart's beating. I dusted myself off and headed back up to the walkway. The beach going crowd had cleared out with the sun. I trudged up the promenade alone.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a black SUV slowly driving behind me, way under the normal speed limit.

Strange...

I walked a bit faster, and the car moved up a bit more. My chest tightened some. I ignored the red cross walk light and upped my pace, the train station just ahead of me, right up a flight of steps. The car sped up.

Suddenly, a pair of rough hands grabbed me from behind, stuffing something foul and chemical smelling in front of my face. I tried to call out, but the world faded into a sharp black.

I woke up with my cheek pressed against leather, my head dizzy and disoriented, throbbing like the world's worst hangover.

_What- where am I?_

My vision slowly refocused. I- I was in a narrow room, no, not a room. It was the clean interior of a private plane, carpeted floors, closed windows. I tried to stand but found I was unable. My feet had been tied together and my hands were similarly pinned behind my back. The restraints were tight, cutting off circulation. I couldn't so much as wiggle my fingers. A seatbelt was secure against my waist.

"Hello?", I called out.

No response. I repeated myself, as loud as I could muster, "HELLO?"

My voice sounded cracked, hoarse. I heard the sound of shuffling behind me, a low murmur of words. Before I could turn my head to see who was there, I was pulled back by my hair and smothered in another round of what I imagined was chloroform. The world went black again.

The second time I awoke, I was in a bedroom. My arms and legs were untied, but violent bruising collected around my wrists and ankles. I jumped off the bed, my legs buckling beneath me. I hit the floor, hard. I shakily got to my feet, going for the door, only to discover it was locked. The room I was in was well furnished. There was a high cedar bed, a desk with a chair, a closet, a window. I quickly pulled back the curtain to see the nighttime Tokyo skyline, rubbing my eyes in disbelief. _How the fuck..._ I was somewhere high off the ground, the city like a diorama beneath me. I banged my fists uselessly against the window, though there was no one around to see me from my place in the clouds. I tried to grab the chair, to maybe break the window and get the attention of the people below, but it, along with all the other furniture, was bolted into the ground.I pounded my fists as hard as I could on the glass, until it felt like my hands would break.

"HELP! ANYONE? HEL-"

The lock clicked. I whirled around. Two men, both dressed in suits, entered. One of them carried a tray of food. The other I recognized. It was that strange man from my signing.

"Who are you people? What's going on?", I whispered.

"Eat.", one of the men said, not meeting my eyes. He set the tray down on the ground. Rice, miso. It smelled delicious, but I kicked the dish of soup, splattering it all over their shoes, "What the FUCK is going on?"

The man who I recognized slammed his palm into my chest, sending me to the ground, knocking the wind out of me. I wheezed, and when I looked back up, there was a gun in my face. My blood turned to ice. I had never even seen a gun in real life before. His companion put a hand on his arm, "Don't."

The man with the gun sneered, lowering the pistol to aim at my leg, cocking it, "I could miss an artery. The boss won't mind."

I closed my eyes tight, the image of a bullet ripping through my thigh flashing in my mind.

"Don't. We have strict orders to keep him comfortable. A gunshot wound isn't comfortable."

I heard the sound of the safety clicking back on the gun and slowly reopened my eyes. The man from my signing pushed the tray at me with his foot, "Eat."

I stared back, immobile, until I was yanked to my feet. "Fine. If you won't fucking eat, we'll get to work." He thrust a hand in front of my eyes, resting the cool barrel of the weapon on my back. I was taken out of the room, but I couldn't see anything except for the slivers of light that ebbed through his fingers. We took a left, then a right, then another left. I was pushed into a small room that was more like a concrete box. A sheet was hung on the wall, a stool sitting in front of it. Propped before the stool was a camera on a tripod. I was dragged into the chair. The man used his gun to push my face in the direction of a sign the other had picked up. I flinched as the metal burned against my cheek. "Read it."

I blinked, trying to make sense of the words in front of me.

"Tadashi Yamaguchi..?"

"Speak up". I instinctually looked up at the man, irritated, achey. He pressed the gun tighter against my head, uncomfortably forceful. I swallowed and turned back to the message I was supposed to deliver. Nothing about this made any sense and my hands couldn't stop shaking.

"Tadashi Yamaguchi, in a week's time, you must bring the Eye of the Moon to Harumi Wharf at midnight. If you fail.. if you fail to return the stone to us by then-"

I stopped. I stopped cold. The shadow of pure panic was rearing up behind me, a fear sharper than any knife. I looked up at the man, pleading with my eyes for an explanation. He simply used the end of the pistol to push my face back in the direction of the sign.

"Then... then Kozume Kenma dies."

The truly horrifying part was the next line. The text bounced all around my brain, pounding against the walls of my skull. I felt like I was going to throw up.

"In each week that follows where you fail to comply, or if you ever seek police assistance, then a-another resident of 2-26-18 Denenchofu will die."

The was my address. That was Kuroo and I's address. Kuroo. I felt like I was breaking, but I managed to finish the message, the insulting, sardonic line that had been tacked onto the end.

"T-thank you.. for your t-time."

We call disasters unimaginable. In the news, whenever something awful happens, people always shake their heads, because _I could never imagine that happening to me_. It's unreal, unfathomable that our lives and the lives of people we love could be in jeopardy. If we were to pay mind to such scenarios, we would never go outside and panic rooms would be universally installed. The terror I felt was nameless, invisible, malignant. Unimaginable. Kuroo. My Kuroo.

I was roughly grabbed by the arm to be brought out of the video, but I lashed out at the touch, kicking at my captor, "What the fuck? What the fuck is this shit, who are you-"

I looked into the camera, feeling feral, uncontrollable. How dare these people even insinuate they could cause harm to the most precious, sacred person I knew. I didn't care about my own life. I didn't care what they would do to me, that these unnamed figures had dragged me across the sea against my will, pushed me around, imprisoned me. They could kill me in the most painful, complex way imaginable but if they even _touched_ Kuroo-

I was dragged from the room, kicking and screaming. "DON'T HURT HIM, DON'T HURT HIM, DON'T, I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU DO TO ME, I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON, I DON'T KNOW WHY-" I felt like an outside observer, watching my body struggle and flail against the stronger duo. I looked a bit pathetic and hysterical, my small frame crying out like that.

They threw me back into my room, the lock clicking behind me with finality.

I curled into a ball on the ground. It felt like my organs were collapsing, like my heart would burst if it didn't stop beating so hard in my chest. I had no idea what was going on. Yamaguchi? The Eye of the Moon? Those words barely meant anything.

All I could think of was Kuroo.


	19. Start Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i going to subtly, mildly, quickly, self indulgently reference my oikawa fanfic in this chapter... yeah. please don't shoot me

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Isn't what obvious?"

"We're going to steal the Eye of the Moon."

Kuroo threw him a dark look, "That's not fucking funny. This is serious." Tsukishima was unswayed, "I am serious."

Kuroo got up from the ground, pacing over to the window. He gripped the edge and stared out into the backyard, though it seemed like he was looking beyond. Tsukishima adjusted Yamaguchi's body so he would be propped up a bit more, gently maneuvering his shoulder with the lightest touch.

"We can't go to the police. Yamaguchi is... well, he's not doing well. We steal the gem, we get Kenma back, and Yamaguchi can be free. Everything will be solved. Who's to say we can't? We don't have a lot of time."

Time. It was foreboding notion. Waiting to determine what they could do, who could help them would be a death sentence to the people they loved. There was an invisible clock ticking above their heads. Kuroo nodded slowly, carefully. "Ok... ok. Let's do it."

Tsukishima provided a small note for Yamaguchi explaining they would be going out, that they would be back within two hours, in case he happened to wake up. It felt safe to leave the man at home alone with the deadline they had been given. No one was coming to harm him if they expected the gem to be returned. Yamaguchi was sleeping more peacefully now, and his temperature seemed to have gone down a bit. He looked so fragile, wound up between the sheets like an injured bird in a box, but at least he was still. Tsukishima hoped that he was dreaming of something pleasant. He rested a hand on the man's cheek, trailing a finger along his jawline, then quietly left. Kuroo was waiting outside in his car. He moved hollowly, a darkness in his face. The situation they were in felt so implausible, Tsukishima almost wanted to step away from it and laugh. But it was real. It was happening. All of their lives would be the price of poor execution.

They determined a museum trip was necessary to collect information about what needed to be done to accomplish their goal. The Tokyo National Museum was in the same park as the zoo Tsukishima assumed he had been fired from at this point. The museum was not a single building, but rather a complex of six large spaces that sprawled over the grounds. The main building, the Honkan, housed cultural and historical artifacts; ancient Buddhist scrolls, beautiful ceramics, silken costumery. A long reflecting pool stretched out in front of the grand building, but they were interested in the structure directly behind it. The Heiseikan was sleekly modern, a distinct contrast from the traditional Honkan. It was the most recent edition to the museum's grounds, built in 1993 to commemorate the crown prince's wedding. The bottom floor of the museum was dedicated to a permanent, chronological exhibition of Japanese archeological finds, ranging from the Paleolithic era to the Edo period. It also contained a lecture hall and an auditorium for public events.

The top floor was for special exhibitions.

The museum was packed with people, the allure of the Eye of the Moon pulling in locals and tourists alike. Guides shouted, mother's wrangled children. It was a bit chaotic. Security figures loomed within corners, watching, waiting for anyone to move too close to the glass. The shuffle of bodies and recycled heat made Tsukishima feel sick. There was no way they would ever be able to navigate a crime through this crowd. He and Kuroo didn't speak much as they ascended the stairs.

The top floor was divided into four separate exhibition rooms. The smallest room, shoved without a thought into the leftmost corner, had been dedicated to a traveling contemporary arts show. The painting hanging against the entrance wall caught Tsukishima's eye, momentarily arresting his vision. It was of a simple house at the edge of an ocean. It had been composed not so much by color, but by light, the shifting blues and greens dappled against an unseen sun. He felt like he could reach out and open the front door, like he could step into this painting and enter a security that was denied in his land of three dimensions. There were no people inhabiting the landscape, but Tsukishima felt like he could feel them just out of the frame. He could feel their love.

Tsukishima thought back to Yamaguchi's rambling for a quiet life, his desire for a house by the sea. Tsukishima's life had always been quiet, at least until very recently.   
When this was all over, he resolved himself, in that small moment, that he would create a space like this for the two of them to share. He wanted to give Yamaguchi some of the quiet that he deserved.

A house by the sea.

A home.

He bent down to read the artist card.

_Oikawa Kana. "The Vacation"._   
_Acrylic on canvas. Biarritz, France._

Kuroo grabbed him loosely by the back of the shirt, "We aren't here to sight see, come on", he grumbled. The rest of the floor was dedicated to the main attraction, the infamous, coveted Eye of the Moon. Two rooms were dedicated to the history of the stone, a timeline of its discovery, its impact on the scientific and artistic community. The final room, the largest, contained only the stone. It was nearly impossible to see with the crowd of people, everyone inching to get a look. The room was rectangular, and there were security cameras in each corner. Tsukshima and Kuroo eventually pushed their way to the front.

The gem really was beautiful.

There is a moon that exists in the sky, a craterous, dull creature. Our conception of what the moon is, what it can mean to an individual, is entirely different. The delicate being that provided comfort at night, that gently pulled the tides- the moon of stories and prayers, songs and sonnets, rested before them in resplendent glory. Tsukishima felt a bit worse. It was ugly and horrible that there was someone who wanted to take this from where it could be enjoyed by all people. How awful that someone out there would harm and kill for just a little piece of light.He remembered, with those grim thoughts, why he was here. The gem sat on a pedestal in the center of the room, covered by a glass box. A rope fence existed around it to keep the public back. Three guards were stationed, two on either side of the room, one by the door. Kuroo and Tsukishima stayed in the room for as long as possible, getting a feel for the space, until the crowd forced them out. They returned down the singular flight of stairs and exited the building. Tsukishima noticed his hands were shaking slightly. They had to steal that. That thing that was surrounded by people and guards and glass. If they failed, it would mean not only jail, but death to those they loved the most.

Yamaguchi needed to be free of this before it was too late.

His stomach churned and he felt like he might be sick. Kuroo looked at Tsukishima and nodded, slightly.

"It's... it's not going to be impossible. Just hard."

They quietly returned home. Kuroo said he was going to go do some research on his laptop. Tsukishima nodded, turning back to the garage apartment. Yamaguchi was still in the same position he had been in. Tsukishima cleaned his wound, changed the bandages. Yamaguchi didn't stir, but he was still breathing, ever so softly. The blond placed a hand on his head, moving him gently in his lap.

In high school, Yamaguchi had given him such untiring tenderness. He had always been there to support him, asking for little in return. Tsukishima had so much care to catch up on.

The entirety of the situation felt like an invasion. A loss of control. But, as he cradled Yamaguchi's head in his hands, he realized that he felt calm. It was so simple, in a way. Steal the gem. Save Kenma. Free the man he loved. He was forcing himself to be numb to the insanity of it all, for Yamaguchi's sake.

Kuroo opened the door to the apartment, placed a note on the table, then exited without so much as a word. He seemed lost in himself, in his worry. It made Tsukishima nervous.

He gently moved Yamaguchi back to the pillow, going to pick up the note. It read:

_Our obstacles_

_-electronic security system_   
_-bullet proof glass casing around the gem_   
_-guards_   
_-getting in and out of the museum. it's way too crowded during the day, but security at night is probably increased. we need an alternative_

_Start thinking._


	20. In the Garden of Night

The plan came together slowly, then all at once. Tsukishima determined they would cut the power to the museum, disabling security under the cover of darkness. Kuroo bought a little motion tracking go pro and handled the difficult, first illegal action they would be partaking in. On Wednesday, he returned to the museum and "accidentally" wandered into the room where the power information, along with camera feeds, were directed. He fixed his camera in the top most corner, a stream of video feed wirelessly accessible from the house. It was at the perfect angle to record the input of the password to the whole system, whenever the next guard logged in. Tsukishima had offered to go on this mission with him, but Kuroo had refused. He had become increasingly moody and prone to stress in the past couple days, adapting a cold exterior to keep himself together. Tsukishima understood. 

The case the gem was in was near unbreakable, the glass box was bolted onto the pedestal, the pedestal was secured firmly into the ground. They had to determine how to free it from its box. Kuroo, in all his chemistry genius, had the idea to put together a solution of hydrofluoric acid to dissolve the glass. He was experimenting with different compounds to speed up the reaction time. 

The most important figure in the growing plan, however, was Bokuto. Tsukishima and Kuroo had not told him the specifics of the situation, what they intended to do, so he could have plausible deniability if everything went wrong. All Bokuto knew was that Kenma was in trouble, Yamaguchi was unwell, and his actions would help. He had such deep trust in Kuroo, this was all that was necessary. Private events were not allowed within the museum, so it wasn't possible for some CEO, however wealthy, to simply rent out the space as they pleased. The museum was in the public domain. However, Bokuto's position as a member of Japan's National Team allowed him access to the necessary government figures to be able to, with Akaashi's careful help, host a small charity reception alongside the Eye of the Moon. Tsukishima determined that he and Kuroo could slip in as wait staff for the dinner, avoiding the crowds, while simultaneously not having to worry about heightened night security. It was the perfect solution. 

At least, that's what they hoped. 

On the Thursday before the heist would take place, Yamaguchi regained consciousness. Tsukishima was sitting at the table with a blueprint of the museum grounds, determining the best route to escape through once they had the gem. 

"T-Tsukki?" 

He quickly covered the map and turned towards the man in bed. Yamaguchi's eyelids fluttered open and his breathing was labored. Tsukishima went to his side, kneeling next to him. Yamaguchi rolled over, straining, resting his hands on the other man's cheek. They burned against Tsukishima's skin, like the clashing hot and cold of a thunderstorm. Tsukishima could tell he was in a lot of pain, but Yamaguchi still had the sweetest smile on his face when he looked at him. He felt his heart soften. 

"Hey, Tadashi." 

Yamaguchi weakly grasped at the collar of his shirt, pulling the other man a bit closer to him. Tsukishima obliged, sliding in bed next to Yamaguchi. The smaller man shifted towards him, leaning his head into his chest. 

"How do you feel?" 

"Consumed." 

His eyes were glassy, his thoughts vague and imperfect. Tsukishima didn't really know what he meant by that. Yamaguchi folded into him more, his face in the fabric of Tsukishima's shirt. Tsukishima wrapped his arms around him, feeling the slow beating of the other man's heart. 

"Have you ever hated me?" 

Tsukshima furrowed his brow, "No." 

It was true. He'd been angry, outraged. He had mourned, but he didn't feel like that was time that had been stolen from him. It had all been worth it, now. Anything was worth it to be able to hold the person he loved most in his arms. 

"Do you think you could ever hate me?" 

Yamaguchi gazed up at him, pale faced and sweaty. Tsukishima frowned, "Why would you ask me that?" 

Yamaguchi looked away, "I-just. I was just wondering." 

"Well. That's a stupid thing to wonder. Don't think such idiotic things", Tsukishima mumbled, leaning into the other man. He kissed him lightly on the cheek. Yamaguchi turned, following the kiss, pressing his mouth firmly against Tsukishima's. A body in pain is an unpredictable body, a being capable of seeking comfort despite the stress it's under. He pulled Tsukishima on top of him, heat and electricity moving between the pair. Yamaguchi wrapped his arms around the man's neck, the spark needed to ignite the hunger they both felt for touch. There was a fierceness to the kiss, a desperation. Yamaguchi slipped his hands under Tsukishima's shirt, outlining the shape of the man's body with his fingertips. He kissed down along the man's throat, causing Tsukishima to tip his head back in surprise, a bit of a gasp escaping him. He then pressed his hips up against Tsukishima's, their legs tangled, their breath running ragged. The blond wasn't sure what to do with his hands, where he could place them on Yamaguchi's fragile body, but he wanted to feel as much as him as possible. 

It was so hungry, hungry, hungry. 

Yamaguchi kissed him with an intensity like he would never be able to kiss him again, as if it were the last day on Earth, as if the sun itself was about to go out. When he finally pulled back, sick and trembling, he smiled. Tsukishima sat up, winded, a bit bewildered. "That was irresponsible. You're not- you're not in a state where you should exert yourself like that." 

Yamaguchi laughed weakly, raising his eyebrows. "I don't care, Tsukki." 

Tsukishima felt his face get redder, his hands and body still burning from the contact. Yamaguchi continued to look at him, though his gaze was a bit different now. There seemed to be a sadness to it. He shook slightly, more perspiration collecting on his brow. He groaned as he moved, the strain on the infected wound overtaking him. When he finally spoke, his words came out in short gasps, almost like whispers. "I just want to be with you. I just want to be able to be with you." 

Tsukishima nodded, "Soon. I promise. All of this will be over."

Yamaguchi sighed, softly, succumbing back into sleep. "It will, but- but be safe. I'm- I'm sorry." The words barely were able to edge out as he drifted off. Tsukishima shook his head. He wanted to tell Yamaguchi off for apologizing for a situation he had such little control over, but the other man was already out of consciousness. He was glad that Yamaguchi could just rest, that he didn't know about Kenma, that he didn't know what Tsukishima and Kuroo were planning. He surely would have tried to stop them.

There was no way he could know, but Tsukishima found himself wondering why Yamaguchi had told him to be safe.

He didn't wake up again throughout the Friday. Tsukishima carefully buttoned up his waiter's uniform, and then paused. He went to Yamaguchi's jacket and carefully took the gun from it, slipping it into his own inner pocket. Tsukishima had no idea how to even use it, but he wanted something to be able to protect himself. The idea made him nauseatingly nervous. This was it. Tsukishima leaned down and watched the rise and fall of Yamaguchi's speaking frame. 

_For you. For you, always._

He kissed him on the forehead and left, closing the door behind him. 

Kuroo parked the car as close to the museum as possible, the license plate having been removed to avoid tracking. They were lucky to have not been pulled over driving there. The light of the moon gave the garden surrounding the museum a dusty, lilac hue. The whole of earth seemed to be sleeping in the mist of early winter, barren tree limbs reaching out into the night, grasping at nothing. The cold was a relief. It sharpened the mind and honed the senses. 

Tsukishima and Kuroo nodded at each other, then went inside. 

"Who are you guys?"

The head caterer frowned at Tsukishima and Kuroo as they came to collect plates from the makeshift staging area that had been set up in the lecture hall downstairs. "Temp workers", Kuroo quickly replied, trying to sound as neutral as possible. The man suspiciously examined the pair, finding satisfaction with the disinterested, overworked look of Tsukishima. Kuroo got a second glance. "Take your earrings out, this isn't a carnival", the head caterer grumbled to him before thrusting a tray of champagne into each of their arms. The two men went up the stairs, carefully balancing the glasses. "This is way harder than it looks", Kuroo muttered as he nearly knocked his tray over. Tsukishima ignored him.

In 15 minutes, as dinner was being served, the power was scheduled to cut out. After they had set up the tables, before the guests had arrived, Kuroo had went on a 'bathroom' break. He had quickly slipped into the control room during the security rotation and overrode the system with the password data they collected from the camera.

Two guards were stationed outside the room where the small banquet was being held. One nodded to the pair as they entered. Kuroo nodded back, carefully stepping, a little bit too slowly out of fear of toppling the glasses again.

Tsukishima lightly tapped him with his foot, _Get your shit together._

Inside _,_ the Eye of the Moon gleamed softly from its case. A long white table cut the center of the room, populated by men and women in suits and gowns, the finer politicians, museum board members, and sports officials of Japan's political body. The reception that had been thrown together was an alleged evening to promote a higher integration of arts and athletics for Japanese youth. Bokuto sat at the head of the table, next to Akaashi, speaking loudly to the director of the Tokyo National Museum, Zeniya Masami. From the look on Masami's face and his small, polite nods, he seemed to be wearily regretting the event. When Bokuto noticed Tsukishima and Kuroo's entrance, he choked on his drink. Akaashi quickly hit him on the back, reminding his fiance to keep his cool.

Tsukishima knew it was probably best to limit interactions between Kuroo and Bokuto as much as possible, so he was the one to serve the champagne to their friend's end of the table.

"Thank you so much, Tsu-Sir. Sir. The, uh, service has been excellent tonight."

Tsukishima glared daggers into Bokuto, before bowing his head in thanks and exiting the room. He and Kuroo met back in the hallway. Kuroo lifted his watch, "Seven minutes."

Seven minutes. The lights would go off. Kuroo would apply the solution in the dark, in the confusion, and grab the gem. Then, they would sprint to where the car was waiting for them. They returned downstairs to wait for instruction to bring in the dinner plates. Each minute felt like an eternity, a slow, aching crawl of impending doom. Tsukishima's heart was pounding in his chest. He did his best to breath slowly and evenly. He thought of Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi's rough hands, his smile, the way that he would laugh so softly. _For you_.

As the plates were being divided, the head caterer pointed to him, "Hey, Temp, you stay behind in case any extra silverware needs to be brought up."

Tsukishima looked at Kuroo, his eyes wide with panic, as the other was being ushered out the door. Tsukishima mumbled an affirmative, but the minute that the man's back was turned, he darted out to the stairwell, cornering one of the other waiters. "Here, here. I got it."

The waiter, who couldn't have been a boy older than twenty, shrugged. "Nah, man, it's cool, I-"

"No, really. I got it.", Tsukishima grinned in the most unfriendly way possible. The waiter before him gave him a look and wordlessly passed over the tray, shoving his hands in his pockets with an air of confusion and contempt. He caught Kuroo's gaze as he proceeded upwards, his hand making a discreet gesture of a _three_. Three minutes. Three minutes. He felt like he was walking on a tightrope past the guards, past the blank faces of the other waiters, into the room that held the gem, that glittering, watchful eye. He wanted to shrink under it's gaze, to turn and get as far away from here as possible. Tsukishima set down his plates in front a couple, but their gratitude was just ringing in his ears, a high pitched whine. Kuroo caught his eyes. His face seemed to say, _Get your shit together._ He nodded.Tsukishima returned the subtle gesture, the tension in his body swiftly fading.

Then, the room plunged into darkness.

There was commotion, a scuffling, the sound of a glass being dropped. Kuroo was quickly beside him, his fingers moving carefully through the dark, extracting the hydrofluoric solution from the jacket's interior.

But, just as quickly as the lights went off, they flickered back on.

Kuroo quickly shoved the bottle back into his pocket and turned away. Tsukishima leapt back from the display case as if he had been electrocuted. Bokuto and Akaashi looked towards them, observing their proximity to the gem. The realization of what Kuroo and Tsukishima had been attempting dawned on them in a kind of horror.

Zeniya Masami gently reassured the evening's guests, "I am terribly sorry about that brief black out. Something similar happened in this building earlier this year, so we installed an automatic, manual generator downstairs in the old auditorium to support the lights and the security system in the event another outage should occur. Please, let us continue the reception." 

"It's over.", Tsukishima whispered, dread crashing down all around him. They had failed. They were so stupid, so foolish to ever believe this could be as simple as the movies, that this was a viable solution to the danger that had infiltrated and infected their lives. 

Bokuto bobbed his head to Masami's words, trying to reenter the character of good host, but he was clearly shaken and bewildered. Akaashi kept his eyes on Kuroo and Tsukishima, equally shocked.

Kuroo shoved the small bottle of acid into Tsukishima's hand, forcing him to take it. 

"I'm not letting Kenma die."

The tall, dark haired man quickly exited the room, pausing to hold up two fingers.

_Two... minutes?_

_Two minutes until what?_

Akaashi watched him leave. He slowly rose from his chair, as if to follow, but Tsukishima managed to get his attention, clasping his hands in front of him, begging him not to interfere. Akaashi saw the earnestness in Tsukishima's eyes and sank back down into his seat, warily.Tsukishima set out another pair of plates, glancing down at his own watch.

_Kuroo, what the fuck are you doing?_

As if to answer him, a loud crash, like metal on metal, rang up from the floor below. Followed by another. Then, another. The museum's director stood, alert, his face full of concern. He signaled the guards to go determine the source of destructive noise, but before he could give them an order, the room plunged back into darkness.

In the pitch black, he could hear Masami frantically activate a radio, "All security personel-"

Then, another crash. This time sounding of plates and food, glasses and tableware, chaos beckoned by a familiar voice. "Ah, Mr. Museum Director, I'm so sorry, I can get so clumsy-"

"Get off me!"

"I'm terribly sorry on behalf of my fiance, Mr. Masami. Here, Bokuto-san, let me help you-"

There was another large crash of something toppling over, followed by more faux apologies from Akaashi and Bokuto. Tsukishima realized they were helping him in the best way they could, buying him time, that Kuroo was down there somewhere, that-

His body unfroze and he quickly unscrewed the cap from the bottle, dumping it all over the glass. Tsukishima pressed a gloved hand through the quickly melting barrier, grasping the cold, round object the case contained. It was surprisingly heavy. He couldn't see anything, but he knew he held the Eye of the Moon in his own palm.

_What do I do now? What was the next thing that was on the plan?_

A memory was dragged to surface of his mind. Yamaguchi, their freshman year of high school. His book bag was slung over his shoulder. He looked so happy, so untouched by tragedy. "C'mon, Tsukki! Let's run home!"

_Run... RUN!_

Tsukishima sprinted out of the room, knocking past unseen figures in shadows. He flew down the stairs, gripping the railing for dear life, pushing between the other people that were crowding there. He burst into the museums downstair's. Someone yelled for him to stop, but he kept going, throwing open the doors, flying out into the winter torn garden. Tsukishima forged a path with his feet, every fiber of his being straining with effort, his lungs burning in his chest. He didn't stop until he got into the car, where they had parked it on a side road behind the museum. His body slammed into the passenger seat and he uncurled his hand, finally looking down at the prize within.

Up close, the Eye of the Moon was even more than it had been in its display case. It was hypnotic, mesmerizing. Tsukishima felt like he was gazing at the very movement of the sky, powerful, eternal, and unyielding.

Voices in the distance snapped him from his trance. He had to get out of here... but Kuroo was nowhere to be seen. And he had the car keys.

Tsukishima leaned his seat low. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ Beams of flashlights were beginning to part the bushes.

Then, he saw him. A rustle within the perimeter. Kuroo was crouched low behind a tree, narrowly avoiding a sweep of light.

"C'mon, Kuroo, c'mon, c'mon-" Tsukishima muttered. Kuroo spotted him in the car. Tsukishima watched as his friend stood, took a deep breath, and then began sprinting at full speed towards the vehicle. Instantly, all the flashlights snapped onto him. Tsukishima quickly threw open the driver side door, wildly gesturing for the other man to hurry up. Kuroo slid into the car, thrusting the key into the ignition, and floored it. There was a harsh sound of pavement skid as they rocketed into the night, tearing away from the museum.

"You got it? If you don't, I swear-"

Tsukshima held up his hand, the gem stone clutched tightly in his fist. Kuroo roared with victory, and Tsukishima found himself yelling along side of him, in relief, in anguish, in everything one could possibly experience.

"WE LITERALLY JUST STOLE-"

"I SMASHED THE GENERATOR-"

"I THINK BOKUTO AND AKAASHI TACKLED THE MUSEUM DIRECTOR-"

"WE JUST DID THAT-"

"WE DID-"

"WE'RE GOING TO BE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE-"

"DON'T THINK ABOUT IT-"

Invited by the thought, the sound of police sirens began to creep through the air. Their celebration immediately died. Tsukishima began to remove the waiter's uniform, "I think we have to ditch the car." Kuroo looked, at him, incredulous, "How else will we-" Tsukishima pulled some extra clothes they had stashed in the backseat, tossing some to Kuroo. "Train. It'll be thirty minutes."

Kuroo shook his head, "That's cutting it way too close, we have to be at Harumi Wharf at midnight."

"We won't get there if we're arrested on the way."

Kuroo paused, then pulled the car to the side of the road. The two men finished changing, stuffing the waiter's uniforms under seats. They joined the late night commuters, blending into the sparse crowd. They looked like any other person, now. Tsukishima felt the gem in his pocket. He turned it over and over again between his fingers. Ueno Station. Transfer to Yurakucho Station. Final stop, Hotto Plaza Harumi.

It wasn't over yet.


	21. The Man In The Sky

Harumi Wharf was was beautiful, despite it's weathering. Tsukishima scanned the area, perched on the edge of the coast, the salty night air spinning through his fingertips. The harbor was lined with small clusters of ships, carrying cargo from far off places. It was quiet. All that could be heard was the light lap of water on the side of the concrete. The laborers who navigated the pier had left with twilight, the tourists who crowded the wharf for the Rainbow Bridge, for a distant view of Tokyo Tower, were long gone. The moon sat heavy behind a cloud, shining out over the ocean. Tsukishima looked down at the gem in his pocket, still unable to determine which was more impressive. 

Kuroo whistled to himself, kicking at a bottle that had been carelessly left on the ground. Tsukishima frowned, "Pick that up." 

Kuroo glared, but humored him. They had not spoken once throughout the train ride over. There were no police sirens disrupting the air, but neither wanted to point that out. Each was too frightened that they would speak of some security and jinx their operation again. Tsukishima leaned back, closing his eyes. The people they were supposed to meet would be here any minute. Nerves sliced through his body. Tsukishima breathed a long sigh, shifting his weight, trying to expel them. 

"What are you gonna do when this is over?", he asked Kuroo. 

"I'm taking Kenma home, and he and I are getting into bed and sleeping for as long as possible. After that, we can all head down to a police station to get this whole mess sorted out. I've got the flashdrive stored in my room so we can convince them we were coerced into doing this." 

Tsukishima nodded. He hadn't even put thought into the whole process of clearing their names, it wasn't like it would be hard to trace the crime back to them, especially with Kuroo's very public destruction of the generator. He was glad to have such an intelligent, proactive friend. 

"What about you?" 

"First, I'm dragging Yamaguchi into a hospital so he can finally get some proper treatment for his wound before it's too late. After... I'm not sure. As long as I'm with him, I'm happy." 

Kuroo beamed at him, surprised. He tipped his head back, laughing slightly. "What?", Tsukishima growled. He didn't like the obnoxious look on his friend's face. Kuroo shrugged. 

"Nothing. That's just a really sweet thing for you to say, of all people. I didn't know you had it in you. And... it's been really good to see you happy again, Kei." 

Tsukishima flinched away, turning bright red, "Yeah. Well. Whatever. Thanks for.. for being such a good friend through all this crazy shit. I guess", he mumbled. Kuroo comically cupped an ear, leaning towards him, "Sorry, what was that?" 

The blond darted back, making a face like he would be nauseous if he repeated himself. It felt good, joking like that again. They were almost in the clear. He looked out over the harbor, gazing out on all sides, the way the land curved to meet the sea. The clouds that covered the moon had passed. The crescent stared back at Tsukishima with cool, measured detachment. Kuroo joined him, reflecting out on the world. Tsukishima shivered against the night air. He wasn't good at expressing it, but he felt incredibly lucky that their lives had tangled into something called friendship. Who else could've done something so completely, utterly insane with him? Kuroo swung his arm around his friend's shoulder's, and for the first time, Tsukishima didn't shove him away. 

A black SUV rolled into the lot. The pair stiffened at the sound, quickly turning. Two men in suits exited the vehicle, but they didn't approach. They simply stood, nearly thirty feet away, watching eerily. Kuroo and Tsukishima slowly countered towards them, exchanging a glance. 

"A-are you? The people we're supposed to meet?", Kuroo stuttered, clearing his throat. He noticed the holstered guns at their sides. Tsukishima gripped the gem in his pocket tighter and remembered the gun he had borrowed from Yamaguchi, still concealed at his belt. He tried to stand a bit taller. Without responding, the men extracted a briefcase from the front seat, opening it to reveal an empty, cushioned space. 

"The stone, please." The one who spoke's voice was raspy, and a thin scar ran through the center of his face. Tsukishima nearly handed it to him, but Kuroo stopped his motion, finding his confidence. 

"Where's Kenma?" 

Scar face's lip twitched, "We're going to take you to him. The boss wants to thank you, personally. Then you can go." 

"You're not getting the stone until I have my husband back", Kuroo growled, moving to his full height, matching the suited men in front of him. Scar face turned to his partner, who shrugged. "They have it.. it's not like they're going anywhere. Better than having to force it from him in a public area." 

Tsukishima swallowed hard. The man glared at them, and opened the car door, gesturing for them to get in. He and Kuroo climbed into the backseat. The lock clicked with a finality behind them, causing something inside of Tsukishima to stir. Kuroo voiced the thoughts he was struggling with in a low whisper, "Something is... not quite right." 

Tsukishima nodded a slow affirmative. 

The car's windows were tinted impossibly dark on the sides, so he and Kuroo leaned towards the middle to see where they were being taken. The SUV passed Tokyo Metropolitan Shiba Park, swung close to the Tower, eventually crossing into one of the city's vibrant downtowns, Shinjuku. The neon lights brought out a sickly pallor in Tsukishima's face. Friday night was in full swing, club goers and drunks stumbling about the street. He assumed they would head deeper into East Shinjuku, to Kabukicho, an area known for being one of the city's ugly underbellies. The red light district seemed like an optimal place for exchanging stolen merchandise, but they turned to West Shinjuku, a place of grand high rises and government buildings. Tsukishima and Kuroo were escorted out of the car and into a particularly tall property. There was a familiar insignia on the glass doors, but he couldn't place it. The floor was a gleaming marble, the ceiling adorned by a crystal chandelier. A lone woman in a smart suit manned the front desk. Tsukishima had expected some mob boss in a warehouse, not a fancy place that reminded him of a hotel. The panic in him grew, so he tightened his fist around the gem, crossing his arms in front of him. 

He and Kuroo were shown into an elevator, the woman wishing the four men a polite, "Good evening!" 

He was started to get really tired of this drama of manners. 

Power and wealth felt like such a false, idiotic measurement of character, but as the elevator ascended, Tsukishima found himself becoming increasingly frightened of the man who resided at the top of this heaping castle. He remembered what Yamaguchi had said. This was a man born to such wealth, a man who had experienced a life of such ease, the only objects that could bring him happiness were those he had been explicitly forbidden to possess. 

He and Kuroo both jumped slightly when the elevator opened with a ding. They were in a richly carpeted hallway, dark red, nearly tacky if it wasn't for the ornate, golden interior that complimented it. Paintings and sculptures lined the walls, vivid pleasures, each more precious looking than the last. It was like a private museum. Some of the art felt familiar, like Tsukishima had scanned over a newspaper at some point in time to briefly examine an article where the piece had been described as missing. He shuddered and looked at Kuroo, who's eye's were unflinchingly wide. 

They silently followed towards a large framed door, lined by two other armed men in suits. Scarface leaned forward, knocking. A rich, baritone voice called from inside, "Enter." 

On a dais, in an elaborate chair that was not unlike a throne, sat a man with salt and pepper hair. He was bit paunchy, but not terribly, and he wore a silken suit that was a deeper blue than midnight itself. Wrinkles collected around his eyes, though they held a sharp intelligence. He leaned back, like he was greatly, cruelly enjoying the scene. Huge floor to ceiling windows showed the entire skyline behind him. 

"Kenma!", Kuroo breathed, on the verge of completely breaking down. 

Kenma stood in a corner, held by one of the guards. He bit down on his cheek to keep himself from calling out to his husband. The man at the head of the room gave his captor a nod, and Kenma was released. He flung himself at Kuroo and the pair crumpled to the ground, holding each other tightly, awash in tears. Kuroo pressed his face into his husband's hair, his hands, refusing to let go of him for even a second. 

"You're ok, you're ok, thank fucking god-" 

The man in the chair picked at his fingernails, "How touching." He then clapped his hands together, like a child receiving a gift. 

But Tsukishima wasn't looking at him. 

He didn't even look at his friends grasping at each other on the floor. 

Standing to the left of the man in the throne was a familiar face, though he had undergone a drastic transformation from the person Tsukishima had seen feebly curled up in his bed only a few hours ago. His green hair had been neatly combed back into a ponytail, and he was dressed in a well tailored suit, complete with an elegant set of shined shoes. He looked healthy, fine, self assured.

The entire world felt like it was falling apart. 

_T_ _here's no way, this can't be-_

"Hey, Tsukki."


	22. Not What He Seems

Yamaguchi had that airy, loose smile on his face, the one that was often reserved for Tsukishima when they were in on some kind of joke together, but this time, Tsukishima was at a complete loss. Words fumbled around in his mouth, but he could not seem to determine the right one. Standing up there, over all of them, Yamaguchi looked dark and beautiful, strong, separate. It was Kuroo that finally spoke when he registered what was happening.

"What the fuck is going on?"

He stood up from the floor, pulling Kenma with him, now holding tighter to his husband, shiftily eyeing the guards as if daring them to try and separate the pair. The man in blue lazily waved a hand, a look of childlike annoyance overcoming him. He sighed, deeply, "Tadashi, it's rude not to make introductions. You know better."  
Yamaguchi was completely unreadable, his voice saturated in formal casualty. He politely bowed his head in an apology, "This is my employer, Mr. Goda. Sir, Tsukishima Kei and Kuroo Tetsuro. And you've become acquainted with Mr. Kozume over the week, I'm sure. "   
Goda nodded, resting his chin in the crook of his hand, "We had dinner together Wednesday evening, but honestly, he was terrible company. Barely spoke at all."

"Hey-", Kuroo barked, but Goda cut him off with icy glare, a cold tremor of power surging through the room, replacing the nonchalant behavior the man had only just exhibited. It was a jarring switch. Yamaguchi shifted between his feet. His employer seemed to be growing weary of the dialogue. He flicked a finger at Tsukishima.   
"Let me see the stone."

But Tsukishima didn't move. He didn't even breathe. Nothing that was happening was making any sense and nobody was giving him the answers he needed. He stared ahead, unwavering, unprocessed.

Goda clicked his tongue, "Tadashi."

Yamaguchi nodded and slowly descended from the platform. He smiled sympathetically at Tsukishima, holding his hands in front of him like he was approaching a cornered animal, the same expression Tsukishima knew from his own body in all the moments that he had guided Yamaguchi through panic. It felt so alien to have their roles reversed. They were close now, close enough to touch.

"Tsukki, please give me the Eye.", Yamaguchi murmured softly, his voice barely audible.   
Tsukishima still did not move.   
Yamaguchi lightly reached out, delicately wrapping his arms around the man as if to embrace him, but his fingers settled on a weight in the back of the jacket lining. Goda wolf whistled from where he watched. Tsukishima oddly did not feel too much of a difference in pull as Yamaguchi extracted the gem, but as the light reflected off the crystalline surface, catching his eye, something inside him snapped.   
Before he could process what he was doing, he was holding the gun that had been hidden at his belt up to Yamaguchi's head.

"What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On."

Tsukishima tried to sound demanding, but it came out more as a plea. Every guard in the room quickly brandished their weapon at him, but Yamaguchi held up his hand. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.   
"I was wondering where that went."

Tsukishima's hand shook, "Tell me."

Yamaguchi's face was blank. He shook his head slightly, mumbling, "Put the gun down, Tsukki. You don't even know how to use that."   
Tsukishima ignored him, steadying himself, pretending he did not see the truth in Yamaguchi's words. His mind felt so disordered, so beyond his body. Only two weeks ago, the pair of them had stretched out a blanket in Kuroo's backyard to examine the stars that shone through Tokyo's haze, fingers folding together. Perfect harmony.

What was he doing, holding up this killing tool to the face of the person he loved most in his life?

But... what was Yamaguchi doing here?

Tsukishima would not back down from an answer. Yamaguchi was equally unflinching, unwavering. He was so composed, Tsukishima madly wondered if he even cared.   
And if he didn't..  
If all this time, these last weeks, the memories new and old, the eight years of agonized waiting, hadn't really meant anything-

_I'll try something else, then._

Tsukishima pressed the gun up to his own head. He heard Kuroo yell something, but it was drowned out against the rising of his heart beat.   
Yamaguchi's face crumpled, twisting into some kind of brief emotional spasm. He turned sharply to look at Goda for how to proceed. The older man looked at Tsukishima with haughty displeasure.   
"Explain. I don't want to pay extra to get stains out of the carpet."

Yamaguchi nodded, turning back to Tsukishima. He did not look at his face, seeking a viewpoint anywhere else, his hands, his chest, his shoes. Tsukishima swallowed.   
"I tried to steal the gem during opening hours and.. I failed. The crowd was too difficult to navigate. The Goda corporation is currently under federal investigation for financial embezzlement.. so we couldn't use any of the company's political connections to gain access to the museum after hours. Too risky. The stone is being moved for display in the States soon. There was only a small window of time left."

The picture Yamaguchi was painting seemed as though it had no connection to reality, to them, to their relationship. Tsukishima felt an illness push him towards an edge.

"Surprisingly, though, I realized my former life held a loose thread of connection between myself and other political figures, like, say, Japan's National Men's Volleyball team. Then, it was just getting the pieces right."

A sort of sickly pride was ignited in Yamaguchi. It was unbecoming of him, the man who had waved away any compliment he had ever been given.

"I arranged a scenario that would force action. I texted Bokuto from Kuroo's phone. I even planted the idea in your head of both using a black out and disguising yourself as waitstaff. I knew, Tsukki, the two of you could figure out the rest."

Tsukishima stepped away from him, his stomach coiling into knots. He fingers trembled in an anger he could not exactly place. It felt so strong and so close to the place in his heart where he had carried his love for Yamaguchi.   
"If you had just told me you needed help, if you had told me anything, I would've done whatever I could for you.", he spat.

Yamaguchi nodded slowly, "I know."

"Then why-"

Yamaguchi gestured towards Kuroo, "His help was needed, too. You might've done what you could for me because you care so deeply, but not him. We don't know each other."  
Kuroo's eyes flashed in a white rage, "I pulled a fucking bullet out of you, Yamaguchi, you little-"   
Kenma placed a quiet hand on his husband, cutting him off. Up at his chair, Goda chuckled.   
Tsukishima didn't like having all these spectators for his exchange. The painful moment was being inhumanly observed.   
It made him feel pathetic.   
Tsukishima pressed the gun tighter against his skin, gritting his teeth.

"So was everything a lie? Was every single thing you've said to me- was that all untrue? All of it?" 

Yamaguchi moved before Tsukishima could blink, slamming a hand against the arm that held the gun. The surprise force brought Tsukishima to the ground. He gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. Yamaguchi stepped down on his wrist, forcing the blond to drop the weapon.

"I told you not to mess with things _you don't understand_."

He kicked the gun in the direction of the other guards and crossed back up to where Mr. Goda sat, retaking his place behind the man.

Tsukishima lay still on the carpet, staring up at the high ceiling, catching his breath is short wheezes.   
He wanted to stay there, right there. He never wanted to get up again. Yamaguchi placed the gem stone in the case on the table. Kuroo dragged Tsukishima upwards, steadying him with Kenma's help. He looked away from Yamaguchi's piercing gaze, but the two men on either side of him stared defiantly back.

"Why go through all this trouble just for some stupid rock?"

Goda shrugged, "I wanted it, so I got it. It's a simple as that."

Kuroo felt sick looking at this aging, childish man. They had been toyed with, manipulated, handled roughly, with Tsukishima bearing the worst of the blows. All because of a singular pursuit of greed. If he stayed in this idiotic penthouse any longer, he was going to puke. "Well, congratulations. Your game worked out, you have your dumb stone. Oh- and- Yamaguchi, you're a piece of shit. I don't even have the words to describe how much of a massive piece of shit you are. We're going home, now", Kuroo spat, firmly gripping Tsukishima's arm.

Tsukishima resisted slightly, finally returning the look Yamaguchi was giving him, searching for a connection he could recognize. His eyes were bottomless and opaque. It had always been uncomfortable for Tsukishima to look into those eyes for prolonged moments. He had memorized the way the light reflected in them, how they looked when Yamaguchi had been crying, the way the corners of those eyes lifted when he smiled. It had been uncomfortable because Tsukishima had always wondered why he felt so intensely when he was held by that gaze.

Now, though, it was different. Tsukishima saw nothing, and this realization cemented the truth.

_I have no idea who you are. I don't know what you've done to me._

Kuroo turned to drag his shell shocked friend towards the door, but Goda's men blocked their path.

"Oh, no. You're not leaving", Goda laughed.

Kenma's eyes went wide, "You said-"

"The police are combing all of Tokyo for the two of them. I can't have you all running your mouths and sending them my way." He swung his legs over the side of the chair, leaning back with a luxurious stretch. "Tadashi, do you remember why I enjoy puzzles so much?"

Yamaguchi nodded. He looked out the window at the glimmer of the skyline. "No leftover pieces."

His words seemed to echo around the room. "What the fuck does that mean?", Kuroo asked, taking a step forward. Goda ignored him, nodding serenely, "Precisely. You grandmastered this plan, do you have any input on a good method for its conclusion?"

Yamaguchi raised and lowered his shoulders, "We could take the boat out tomorrow. It's supposed to be nice. Sunny."

Goda clapped, "An inspired idea. We can do lunch on the water after all the unpleasantness is over." Kuroo's eyes darted between the two of them, his fists clenched, trying to comprehend exactly what was being said. Yamaguchi nodded, looking a bit lost. The older man released a dramatic yawn, "Throw them back in the guest room for the night." The three were suddenly seized by the guards. Kuroo tried to push them off, while Kenma and Tsukishima hollowly surrendered to their grasp. They were in process from being pulled from the room, when Yamaguchi called out, "Ah, wait-"

He turned to Goda, grinning sheepishly, his face gathering red. Tsukishima's heart fluttered uselessly. Finally, a familiar Yamaguchi face. Bashful embarrassment. It was a face of secret telling, of answering a question wrong in class, a face Tsukishima had seen in their second year of high school when he had overheard Yamaguchi loudly singing some popular song in the club room alone. It nearly gave him a sense of relief until he brutally remembered that the person in those memories was in no way the same as the man before him.

"What?", Goda asked, eyelids drooping under amusement.

Yamaguchi ducked down beside his ear, "I was wondering, possibly maybe, if Tsukki could stay with me?"

Tsukishima felt a new surge of panic rush through his body. He didn't want to be anywhere near him. Goda sighed, reaching up to brush back a strand of Yamaguchi's hair. Tsukishima could've sworn he saw him slightly flinch away from the gesture, but it may have been his imagination.

"Tadashi, Tadashi. Making me jealous. He's had your sweet company for so long."

Yamaguchi gave a strained smile, clasping his hands together, "It's just one more night."

Goda sighed again, "Fine. Have your last bit of fun. After that, though.." He waved them off, letting the sentence trail through the air. The large doors thundered shut behind them. Tsukishima avoided Yamaguchi's watchful eye, purposefully trying to position himself towards Kuroo and Kenma to signal how deeply he did not wish to share in his company, but Yamaguchi ignored him. He walked beside Tsukishima, a silvery little smile adorning his face. Guards walked ahead of and behind them, guns ready to be drawn. They turned Kuroo and Kenma into a small room. Tsukishima watched his friends disappear behind the door, one last glimpse of Kuroo's furious panic and Kenma's depressed resignation.

He was glad, at least, they were back together to face whatever it was that was happening now.

As for himself, though..

A unique storm of confusion was brewing in Tsukishima. He kept closing his eyes tightly, hoping to wake up from the living nightmare of the present. Yamaguchi, who he loved. Yamaguchi, the liar. Yamaguchi, who was nearly skipping next to him, then draping his arm around Tsukishima's shoulders. The blond leaped away from his touch, but the his grip became like iron. Tsukishima looked at the smaller man, ready to shove him away, but something in Yamaguchi's face stilled him. The storm grew stronger. He traced small circles on Tsukishima's arm, casually looking back at the guards as they turned into another lushly decorated hallway.

He leaned up, placing his lips next to Tsukishima's ear in the softest whisper, "There's two options. We don't talk at all. We just go to sleep. You don't even have to look at me, and I will completely understand that. But, if you want to speak more openly, I need you to follow my lead when we get into the room. For that, I need your consent and your trust."

The question glowed through Tsukishima. He hungered for understanding. His hands shook, his voice trembled some, but he nodded, "You have my consent, but not my trust."

Yamaguchi looked forward, speaking at a normal volume, "Fair."

"Hey", one of the guards barked, "What are the two of you whispering on about?"

Yamaguchi lazily trailed a hand down Tsukishima's spine. He did everything he could not to flinch away from him, or possibly lean more into the places where his hand met his body. Tsukishima hated himself for even entertaining the thought. Yamaguchi smiled with a vicious sweetness.

"Hiroko, do you actually want to know?"

"Tch."

He laughed, leaning his head on Tsukishima's shoulder. The tragedy was there, in these familiar movements. It made him want to scream, to wrestle back the gun. They stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. It had a little handwritten sign, the paper aged and faded, barely hanging on with old washi tape. _Tadashi's Room!_ It was in Yamaguchi's handwriting, a little smiley face scribbled under the words. Tsukishima wondered how long it had been there.

A guard reached around them, putting a key into the door. Yamaguchi nodded a thanks, guiding Tsukishima inside. The lock clicked behind him. He didn't even have time to take in the room, because Tsukishima immediately found himself against the wall. Yamaguchi gazed up at him, his hands pinning Tsukishima's back, his face determined and a bit cold. Tsukishima almost wanted to laugh.

 _Fine, I can play this game_.

He dipped close to Yamaguchi's ear, whispering with the same slowness from before. "Follow your lead, huh? Of all the sick jokes of tonight, this one's the worst."

Yamaguchi gritted his teeth. His eyes flicked to a corner of the room where a camera was mounted, "I'm not- I swear. A couple minutes of this charade and we should have some privacy to actually talk. Trust me."

The laughter finally came at the sheer insanity of that request. It peeled through Tsukishima, shaking him. He gripped Yamaguchi's hands back as if his life depended on it. The smaller man looked alarmed as Tsukishima further dissolved into laughter at the absurdity of it all, but he quickly stopped, glaring sharply at him. "We're going to follow my lead on this." Yamaguchi's eyes widened slightly.

What his body did was unrelated to his heart. The evening had smashed that part of him, the mind was left craving an explanation, and the body knew it could find comfort through the search for the answer to it all. They intertwined themselves, mouths broken, skin and flesh meeting together. He lightly bit Yamaguchi's bottom lip, yanking the elastic from his hair so that it would fall to his shoulders. He wanted to destroy the person before him, the suit, the shoes. Anything that could bring him back to how he was, in that little apartment, fumbling around in Tsukishima's pajamas. Yamaguchi did follow his lead, carelessly casting Tsukishima's jacket to the ground, pushing him towards the bed. Tsukishima pushed back, holding him tighter, as if Yamaguchi's body was a physical manifestation of the secrets between them. He could touch and somehow understand. Clothes were ripped off, really torn and discarded, flung across the floor.

Tsukishima was bitter. He was outraged. He was afraid. He was sad, he was hurt, he was confused. He was hateful. He was in love. It was agony. He nearly forgot this activity was for a higher purpose, until Yamaguchi turned towards the camera at the room's corner, smiling coyly.

"Shinohara, it's you on surveillance tonight, isn't it? You've got a wife and kids, are you sure you want to be seeing all this? Not really something fit for a sensible man."

There was a heavy pause. Tsukishima's heart pounded as he caught his breath. A PA system crackled on, a weary, stuttering voice breaking through a small speaker in the wall.

"Look. I'll turn off the camera and the audio for the night, because, no. This level of supervision is not in my pay grade. There are guards stationed in the hall, and if you try jumping out that window again, I'll make damn sure you don't get the gift of an easy way out."

Yamaguchi just laughed. The small light on the camera flickered off and he moved away from Tsukishima, sitting at the end of his bed, his knees curled into his chest. It was an instant and radical shift. Tsukishima slowly got up, retrieving his pants from the floor. It was only the two of them now. He didn't know if he should yell, if he should plead with him, if the great strain of sadness would overtake him and he would become a mess right there and then.

Tsukishima didn't know, so he took a small breath.

"Tadashi, what have you done to us?"


	23. Same Kind Of Person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> skkkk this chapter is a little short and I'm v sorry about that, thank you so much to the support this book is getting! the comments make my day

Yamaguchi rubbed his face, pushing his hair back.   
"That's a- maybe you could ask a more specific question?"   
He looked up, smiling a bit helplessly. Tsukishima abruptly turned away. He paced around the room, collecting the details of the space. It seemed a bit timeless, almost cluttered. It almost looked like a room that still belonged to a teenage boy. The bookshelf was bursting with texts of every kind, contemporaries, classics, mangas, encyclopedias. He spotted the book Yamaguchi had been reading at Kuroo's house on the bed side table, next to a small discreetly framed photo.   
Tsukishima held up the picture. A little printed Kageyama scowled at him, sitting cross legged on the floor beside Hinata. Yachi stood off to the side, her hands politely folded. In the center was Yamaguchi with his arms swung over Tsukishima's shoulders. His smile was brighter than the sun. Even photograph Tsukishima looked a little pleased. They were in practice clothes, and judging by Yamaguchi's hair length, it must've been their 2nd year of high school.   
Tsukishima could not remember taking the picture, why they had chosen to document this moment with their classmates. It was strange, seeing it here, now. Yamaguchi took the frame from him and set it back on the table. Tsukishima sat down on the bed, facing away from him.   
"How did this start?"  
Yamaguchi sighed.  
"My grandfather got into some bad business with the Goda company. When they came to collect their debt, my father couldn't pay off his father's mistakes. So I'm here, working as I can. It's not all bad, I've gotten a good education out of it."   
Tsukishima nodded blankly. He had never known much of Yamaguchi's parents. They weren't sociable, even with their own son. Yamaguchi had always come to Tsukishima's house.  
"So you got shot on purpose?"   
"I did it myself", the green haired man mumbled.   
"What?"  
"I did it myself. I-I didn't trust anyone else to get the placement right."   
"Oh."  
"And you weren't really sick, were you?"  
"No."  
Tsukishima nodded slowly, trying not to betray his alarm. It was such a strange thing to be talking so normally about. He looked over at the photo again, then at the camera mounted on the wall.   
"You're trapped here, too."   
Yamaguchi shrugged, wrapping his pale freckled arms tighter around his knees, making himself a bit smaller. He made a small noise of agreement. Tsukishima sat up on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He chuckled softly.   
"So, when you fake broke into the house to text Bokuto from Kuroo's phone.. you took all of Kenma's computers, too. Were you just being a dick?"   
He shook his head, slowly unraveling himself from the tight ball he was sitting in.   
"No.. I just had them brought here, actually. With some adjustments made. Being kidnapped is.. unpleasant. I wanted him to be a bit comfortable at least."   
Laughter spilled out of Tsukishima, but it wasn't quite friendly. It cut through the air like a knife. His shoulders shook, tears sprang to his eyes.   
"Wow. That's incredible. That's just so nice of you, completely traumatizing someone, but hey, they can play video games as they wait to find out if they're being fucking murdered or not!"   
Yamaguchi turned away, his expression unreadable. He laid back on the bed on his side, his back to the other man. Tsukishima balled his fists into the sheets, clutching it tightly. He worked to slow his breathing, his chest heaving up and down as his laughter threatened to pitch farther towards tears.

_This is all so fucked._

He knew which question he wanted to ask the most, of the hundreds that were available to him, but the answer's potential scared him.   
Outside, the moon had fled behind the clouds. The sky was thick with mist, gray, unwavering. There was no sense of calm stability, the pleasant mystery of a cloudy night. The stars darted in and out, shining furtively, half concealed. It felt deep and threatening, a night with as many questions as himself. It was probably around 2 am at this point, though no clocks could tell. He had always been a bit of a nocturnal leaning soul, especially in youth, but Tsukishima found himself longing for the glow of the day. Unharmed hands and feet, neat kisses, laying in the grass.

_If I could just go back a week._  
_Or eight years._  
_If knew what I know now, I wonder how this would all be different?_

Yamaguchi turned over, looking up at him. He plucked the question from Tsukishima's mind and brought it into the light.   
"Not everything was a lie."   
Tsukishima refused to meet his eyes.   
"I never wanted to drag you into this. I do love you, I always have. You have always been so good to me, Tsukki."

A fire lit within him, angry and red.

"I've also been around, some. I went to your college graduation ceremony. I sat around the campus some, in the library. I served coffee once to that woman you were dating for awhile, so I could just talk to her for a bit. She was nice. And pretty. I've been to a couple of our teammates volleyball games, and I went to see you at zoo once. You looked so serious, standing there with all those reptiles-"

"Why the fuck would you tell me this?"

Yamaguchi sat up, a little startled. Tsukishima looked at him in a cool rage, "That makes all of this so much worse. You've been around, watching me, but you couldn't bother to even, I don't know, slip me a note that you're alive? The tiniest fragment of acknowledgement would've changed everything."   
Yamaguchi shook his head, "You would've come looking for me."   
Tsukishima turned abruptly. He stared down Yamaguchi, emotions mixing, confusing, churning.

"Then you should've let me find you."

Yamaguchi turned back away. The two men laid on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. They were close enough to feel the warmth of the other's body, but farther than they had ever been.   
"I'm sorry for using you."   
Tsukishima ignored him.   
"I have another question."   
Yamaguchi flicked his eyes towards him, giving him permission.

"What does he mean, take the boat out tomorrow?"

Yamaguchi swallowed, taking a deep breath.

"You weigh a body with rocks... and it sinks."

Tsukishima whistled, releasing another bitter laugh. "So, I'm gonna die?"

Yamaguchi didn't respond. His eyes looked glassy in the lowlight, "Can I ask you a question?"

"I don't care."

"Do you hate me, now?

Tsukishima sighed. He knew he felt stupid, isolated, afraid. He knew that he felt desperate for what he could not have, for what had been taken from him, for a remedy or a solution. He hated that desperation. He hated the uncertainty, the confusion.   
Part of him thought he deserved it, so, maybe, he hated himself too.

"People have always found me terrible, or unpleasant. I'm abrasive. I don't like to deal with bullshit, and I think a lot of stuff is bullshit. I know people used to ask you why you put up with me, and I wondered that too."

Tsukishima looked at the photo of his teammates, of himself, of a better time. He turned to Yamaguchi, his face half pressed against the pillow. His hair hung limply, his eyes were red. Tsukishima imagined he probably looked worse.   
He laid there, gazing at this odd enigma of a person across from him, and for the first time, something made a bit of sense.   
A certain peace found its way into Tsukishima's heart, an acceptance.

"I didn't know it then, but it's because you're just as awful and inept as I am. Worse, even."

Yamaguchi nodded, taking in the insult. He moved to speak, but Tsukishima continued, "I don't hate you, but that's probably because I've never really known you. I don't think I can hate someone I know so little of. That's a different pain, but it's not one I have to deal with. I think.."

He sighed again, folding his hands over his chest, his heart slowing for the first time all evening. "I think the bottom of the ocean will be nice."   
Yamaguchi quickly sat up, grabbing Tsukishima by the shoulders, gripping into him. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that. Remember what I said earlier, do not mess with things you don't understand."   
Yamaguchi had an expression on his face like he was trying to communicate the incommunicable, like he was trying to signal that there was something buried in his words Tsukishima should pick up on.   
The blonde nodded and Yamaguchi released him, though Tsukishima didn't exactly follow what he was trying to say.

It didn't matter anymore.


	24. Remarkable

Tsukishima awoke once during the final hours of night to see that Yamaguchi was no longer beside him. He scanned the room, but the man was nowhere to be found. The light of the camera was still off.   
When morning arrived, he opened his eyes to see him sitting at the foot of the bed, lacing up his shoes.   
Yamaguchi looked strange in suits. Older.   
"I'm going to have breakfast with Goda. I'm sure food will be brought over for you" , he said, curtly. Tsukishima watched as he left the room.   
No food came. The sun was pulled higher into the sky. At some point, the cameras light was reignited, but he didn't care that he was being watched. Tsukishima put back on his clothes from the day before. He went through Yamaguchi's things, finding nothing interesting, flipping through books and shuffling papers. Eventually, he gave up, leaning against the glass of the window.

Tsukishima Kei did not feel like a man facing his own death.

Death, maybe, was the kindest way for someone to be lost. It left nothing unsaid. He felt his eyes open more as the day continued to pass, every moment marked in finality. Tsukishima thought that maybe life held two deaths, the physical one, and the one when you are forgotten by those most important to you.

Yamaguchi had forgotten him so long ago, Tsukishima figured he was already one foot from the door of the living.

_It doesn't matter much._   
_No, I really just can't care anymore._

The only place in him that burned was when he thought of Kenma and Kuroo, who were waiting in the same way that he was, though they did not know what they were waiting for. It gave Tsukishima a morbid peace to know that when they would go, they would go together. Kenma and Kuroo. Kuroo and Kenma, as it always had been.   
At least he wouldn't have to carry the guilt of their involvement for too long. 

Eventually, the men came for him.   
Yamaguchi was back in his unreadable state, accompanied by the guards from the day before. He flicked his eyes towards the floor. "Get your jacket."   
"Why?"  
"It'll be cold."   
"So?"  
"Just get your jacket."

Kenma and Kuroo were pulled from their room, looking sleepless. They grasped each other tightly as the trio was marched through the hall. "Do you know where we're going?",Kuroo muttered. Tsukishima didn't want to inflict panic on him, so he forced his shoulders to shrug, "On a boat."   
"Maybe they're gonna throw us on an island, and it'll be like Lost. Or Lord of the Flies. We'll use rocks to spell out HELP in the sand, and then they'll make a documentary about us when we're rescued."   
Kuroo chuckled slightly, trying to alleviate the tension. Kenma smiled weakly, but when Tsukishima caught his gaze, the painted grin quickly disappeared. Kenma's eyes reddened and he quickly turned away, making the smallest sniffling noise that he quickly covered up with a false cough. His husband had either not realized, or refused to realize the truth of their situation. Tsukishima could tell, though, that Kenma knew exactly what was about to happen to them. A subtle understanding passed between them that they would not speak of it.

_It's the last time we'll ever have._   
_Let's not ruin it._

They were shuttled into a car, Yamaguchi in a different vehicle. His strange words from yesterday ran circles around Tsukishima's head. _"I do love you...I never wanted to drag you into this... Things you don't understand."_ Ignore, ignore _._ Those words held a strange hope in them, a hope Tsukishima did not wish for. Yamaguchi would never cease to be misleading. He couldn't place his trust in strangers.   
It was mid afternoon when they walked up the ramp to Mr. Goda's sleek yacht. Besides them, the wharf was empty. Not a savior in sight. The man himself sat at a small table on the top deck. Yamaguchi hovered around him like a fly, refilling his glass of champagne. It was not a large boat, but it was well maintained.   
"I'd offer you some, but it seems you three have your hands full.", Goda laughed, pointing out their bound wrists. The case containing the Eye of the Moon rested beside them. Kuroo glared.   
Tsukishima turned as the boat pulled out into the ocean. The sea breeze made his hair whip wildly about. To him, the light reflected by the water was a thousand times more precious than any gemstone. The world looked so beautiful, spread out in front of him. Tokyo disappeared behind them, the city a mere island within haze.   
The boat slowed to a stop. Yamaguchi looked stoic at the bow of the ship. This was it.  
"Get the jackets", Goda ordered. The guards returned, grunting and heaving, with three vests that had great metal weights attached to them. They were dropped on each of their shoulders, staggering under the weight.   
"What's going on?", Kuroo mumbled. He took a step forward, but was met by a guard with a gun. "Kuroo..", Kenma said, warningly, as he pulled his husband back. He wrapped his arms around Kuroo's waist, leaning into his chest. Kuroo placed his hand on Kenma's head, a pained look settling over his face.   
"Oh."   
Tsukishima looked away. He didn't want to see them.   
Goda clapped his hands, causing him to jump from the sudden sound. "Alright, no dramatics. If we want to be able to enjoy dinner, we need to wrap this up."   
The guard closet to Kuroo pulled Kenma off of him and a mild burst of chaos erupted. Kuroo lunged at the guard, as Kenma went to kick his assailant. Tsukishima placed his body between the two, hands up, accidentally receiving Kenma's kick in the back of his leg. He crumpled slightly, "Fuck, Kei, sorry-"   
Tsukishima ignored the apology, turning to face Goda. He held up his hands. "Let me go first! Please. Let me go first."   
Goda shrugged, reclining back in his chair. "I don't care."   
The guard brought Tsukishima to the edge of the boat, up to the railing. Yamaguchi crossed downwards, placing a delicate hand on the man's gun. His eyes never left Tsukishima's.   
"Can I? It should be me, I think."  
Goda waved permission, watching with a morbid curiosity.   
Yamaguchi moved quickly, leveling the gun against his head. Tsukishima was pressed against the railing at the front of the ship.   
Yamaguchi took a breath, "Try to fall backwards. It will be easier."  
The ship rose and fell against the small movements of the waves. The wind moved in patterns, the whole wilderness of water rippling beneath them.   
He tried to reflect on what life had been, but there wasn't much to it.

Tsukishima Kei had always been unremarkable.

That's how he had always thought of his own life, but in that singular moment he realized he could not have been more wrong.

The rare wonders of living flashed before him, almost like a montage.   
It was remarkable that he had had such a happy childhood, a caring family, good food. It was remarkable that he had been able to play a sport he enjoyed for so long. It was remarkable that he had had close friends that stuck by his side since high school. He thought about every text and call he had received from his Karasuno companions, those who had wanted to check in and reach out. He looked at Kenma and Kuroo, their determined and tear stained faces. He had worked at a zoo, lived on his own, he had stolen the most valuable artifact in the known world. If anything, he had experienced too many fantastic things.

Tsukishima looked at Yamaguchi, his grim face, the gun leveled in his hand.   
Maybe he hadn't know him.   
That didn't undo the fact that there had been an intimate trust between them. He knew, even now, he did love Yamaguchi. So much pain had passed between them, because they were painful people, but there was a happiness in the belonging they had briefly found in one another.

 _How remarkable_ , Tsukishima thought, _that I've lived my life knowing what love is._

He looked at Kuroo and gave him a brief nod, before turning back to Yamaguchi. Freckles. Amber eyes.   
"You're- you're the worst, you know that?"   
Yamaguchi nodded, smiling softly.   
"I'm sorry, Tsukki."

Tsukishima smiled back. He closed his eyes, tilting his head to the sun.

**BANG.**


	25. The Man Who Ran Off With The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic isn't done yet but here's a warning that we're a couple chapters out! ahhhhh makes me anxious. this chapter slightly references, resolves the special kenma chapter, so if you didn't read that one, a very small part of this might feel like it's coming out of left field.
> 
> bless, arigato, thank you for your support!

Tsukishima's body pitched forward. He thudded hard against the wood of the deck, his ears ringing from the gunshot. Everything was bright and blinding and painful, but he was somehow very much alive. However, as his senses began to return, he questioned that judgement. The scene before him was much too weird. Yamaguchi was standing over him, gun drawn, pointing it at a figure in front of him. Kuroo was at his side with his own gun, waving it wildly at any guard who got close to them. Kenma was crouched by Tsukishima's side, furiously typing away on an iPhone. Sound faded back in as the ringing disappeared. The guard with the scar on his face leapt forward, but Kuroo warded him off, "Hey, hey man. Back it up. I actually know how to use these now. Kenma?" Kenma nodded at his husband without looking up, "M'almost done."

Yamaguchi grinned, "Perfect."

Tsukishima struggled to sit up. Yamaguchi used one hand to support him, even though Tsukishima tried to push him away. At this point, he didn't even bother with the usual questions of "what's going on?" and "how is this happening?"

He just sighed.

Yamaguchi's gun was leveled on Goda, who's eyes burned with a unique hellfire. "You dare pull a gun on me? This is how you repay me for everything I've done for you?"

Yamaguchi simply stared back, calmly, cooly. Only Tsukishima could see the anticipation that flowed through him. Whatever was happening, Yamaguchi had waited for this moment for a long time.   
"You blackmailed my family. You've forced me to do countless things I wanted no part in. You've kept me as your little prisoner for years, taking me away from the person I love the most."   
Goda grimaced, then laughed. It was an ugly sound. "Tadashi, none of your temper tantrums have ever amounted to anything over the years. What's so different about this?"   
Yamaguchi's grip tightened slightly on Tsukishima's shoulder.   
"This time, I'm not facing you alone."

Kuroo yelled in affirmative, holding his gun up towards another approaching guard who quickly backed off. Kenma raised a small hand in solidarity as he put up the phone. He nodded to Yamaguchi, "It's done." Yamaguchi smiled, returning the nod. It was a look of genuine joy. The breeze fluttered through his long hair, before it settled back on his shoulders. With the sun directly behind his head, Yamaguchi looked like some kind of avenging angel.   
Goda arched an eyebrow, "What are your demands? Do you want your own house? Less surveillance? Car?"

Yamaguchi shook his head, "I don't have any demands. I have everything I want already."

The older man looked confused, turning his head. "Then why-"

Suddenly, his phone went off. It was an awkward, jingly ringtone that cut through the severity of the conversation. Goda held up a finger, silencing his phone. He moved to speak, but the phone started to ring again. He silenced it a second time, took a breath "Then why are you-"

**_Briiiiiiing- briiiiiiing-brinng._ **

Goda looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. His eyes flashed manically. He aggressively turned away from the gathering, "This better be INCREDIBLY important-" The guards shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to keep their weapons drawn with the conversation on pause. Tsukishima's head hurt, and his annoyance was increasing.

"Should I even ask what's going on?"

Kuroo grinned, keeping his eyes up, taking his job very seriously. He looked almost as collected as Yamaguchi, the weighted jacket cast off, his tattoo exposed. The black line on his arm was fixed steadily in the air. With his place at the bow of the ship, his friend looked like an extra in a high budget action movie.

"Well, Tsukki. There was a heist. Then there was another heist in that heist. Now, it's a heist, within a heist, within a heist. We've reached the final heist. Right?" The dark haired man flicked his eyes suspiciously at Yamaguchi. He didn't turn to meet his gaze, choosing to release a small grimace, "This is really the last thing I've got up my sleeve. If it doesn't pan out, we're fucked."   
Kuroo whistled, "Triple layer heist. Thrice the heist."   
Kenma nodded in agreement with his husband, "Ocean's 11." He crossed his legs, sitting at Kuroo's feet. Tsukishima looked between the both of them, irritated, upset, a bit numb.   
"Again, this isn't a movie. And it's not over yet. Keep it together", Yamaguchi muttered. Kuroo nodded, reaffirming his position, "Yeah, yeah." Yamaguchi tapped against Tsukishima's shoulder. He gazed up at him and there was that little look again, the expression on Yamaguchi's face that he wore when they both were in on some kind of joke. A small, conspiratorial smile.

"Are you okay?"

Tsukishima allowed himself to nod a yes, but he wasn't sure.   
Goda whipped around, clutching his phone so tightly, his knuckles were stark white. He was rage incarnate, fury aging the man by nearly 20 years, deepening each crease in his face. He stalked forward, as close as possible, "What the hell have you done?"   
His gaggle of four guards tightened their approach. Kuroo's hands shook slightly, Yamaguchi was unwavering. He motioned for Tsukishima and Kenma to move behind the two armed men. Kenma dragged Tsukishima upwards. "What the hell have you done?"  
Goda's voice trembled with unbridled anger. He looked desperately unhinged, and Tsukishima found himself glad to not be the one facing him down. Yamaguchi continued to smile, "I could never outrun you. Even if I killed you, I wouldn't be free. Someone would retaliate. This was the only way."   
Goda stepped back, his eyes widening with horror. He clutched a hand to his chest, wrinkling the otherwise perfect suit. "How? How was this possible?", he spat.

"I purchased the majority of the Goda corporation's stock, effectively taking control of the board and then liquidated your property assets by selling them off to your competitors. I had a bit of help, economics aren't my specialty."

Beside Tsukishima, Kenma beamed, folding his hands neatly. Goda's phone was continuing to ring, a dreadful digital funeral march. Yamaguchi plowed forward, relentless. "You've been funneling company money for a lot of personal use lately, haven't you? So really... this boat is mine." He gestured towards the guards, "And I pay their salaries." The four burly men looked among each other, uncertain of what to do. They glanced nervously at Goda, then at Yamaguchi. Only the one with the scar held firm. Goda scoffed, "Impossible. That would cost billions of dollars, you have no access to that kind of money. This- this is all a bluff."   
Yamaguchi smiled sweetly, stepping closer to him, until his gun rested on the man's chest. He spoke though gritted teeth, anger slipping into his words, "You trained me how to steal. I'm surprised you didn't even notice."

He leaned ever so closer, dropping his voice to a kind of whisper, "You're getting old, Goda."

Tsukishima almost felt like they were intruding on the moment between the two. Goda's anger slowly drifted into shock. He stepped back away from him.   
"Where's the real Eye of the Moon?"

Yamaguchi laughed, "I sold it to some very friendly Americans. Pity, though. They gave me the money in full before they ever received it. It'll never fall in their hands. The Eye of the Moon deserves to belong to the public, not rich assholes like you."

"Where is it?", Goda hissed. The sun was falling lower in the sky, bathing the water in a deep red, bloody and primordial. It made him look twisted and hellish.   
"For now, I can say it really is on this boat.", Yamaguchi winked.   
He turned to Tsuki, grinning. "You've had it the whole time." He had told Kuroo to be serious, but Yamaguchi was clearly having great fun in the revelation of the game.

"No, I fucking haven't." Tsukishima growled.

Kuroo chuckled, "Dude, it's literally still in the inside pocket of your jacket." Kenma kicked lightly at him, "You can't laugh, you didn't even know that until Yamaguchi told you last night."

Tsukishima wondered when that conversation could've happened. Then, he suddenly remembered how he hadn't felt any difference in weight when Yamaguchi had taken the stone from him in Goda's dining hall. He slowly, carefully unzipped the pocket. There it was, glinting inside the padded fabric, infinitely beautiful. Awestruck, Tsukishima took it from his pocket. He held the stone up in the light of the dying sun. It refracted the beam, scattering crystalline shadows all over the deck of the ship, incredible mirages that rippled and shimmered across wood, skin, and water.

Tsukishima looked at Yamaguchi, stupefied. "W-Why?"

Yamaguchi leaned his head to the side, "Who else could I trust to hold onto the most important piece of the plan?"

Tsukishima wordlessly returned the stone to his pocket, clutching it tight. His face felt hot. Goda blindly lunged forward, crying "That's MINE-"but Kuroo stepped in front of him, backing him up with the gun. The guards did not bother to interject, assuming an uncertain neutrality. Goda stepped back, smoothing a hand over his clothes, before gesturing aggressively at Kuroo and Yamaguchi. He turned to his men, "Aren't you going to do anything? Aren't you going to take it back?"   
The guards looked among themselves, each trying to determine if the other would act. Scarface broke the debate, rushing forward towards Kuroo, but Kenma stepped around his husband to trip the larger man. Scarface hit the deck, hard. Kenma kicked him in the stomach, "That's for threatening to shoot my leg off", he mumbled.

Kuroo looked at his husband like he was falling in love all over again.

Goda looked at his guards, who made no other motions forward, "Pathetic." He turned back to Yamaguchi. "So you- you've tanked my company and seized a large portion of my wealth, what are you going to do now?", he snarled.

"You, and anyone else who wants to join him, are gonna jump off the side of this boat. I'll give you one life vest, because I'm not cruel. You just have to promise I'll never, ever see you again."

Tsukishima's eyes widened. They were far enough from the shore that it was possible Yamaguchi was handing the old man a death sentence, though it was extremely likely that a ship would pass through. Still, it was frightening. He would never get used to it, the split reality of the person before him.

"And if I don't?", Goda taunted.

The sea ran quiet, still red and boiling, as if Yamaguchi had obtained his very power from the pull of the tide. "Then I'll kill you."

Goda laughed, "You wouldn't-" **_BANG._**

He fell to the floor, clutching his arm, howling in pain. Tsukishima jumped back in surprise, a sickness coming to his stomach. Scarface rushed to his boss's side, supporting him to standing as blood continued to run from the gash in his arm. Yamaguchi glared coldly, "Swim away, old man. Next time, it's your head."

Tsukishima lightly reached out to rest his hand on Yamaguchi's arm in a silent plea. He hated the energy that was coming from him, it threatened to overwhelm him. This was all so much. The moon's stone sat heavy in his pocket. Kuroo slid a life jacket towards Goda. They parted, allowing him to go to the front of the boat. Goda pushed Scarface away, grimacing with pain. "I can walk myself." He put on the lifejacket, turning back to Yamaguchi one last time. Yamaguchi took Tsukishima's hand, gripping it tightly.

He felt cold.

The old man moved with finality, but he didn't seem like someone on the way to confront death. Goda smiled, disarming, toothy. He took in the group, his eyes resting on each of them.

"No promises, Tadashi."

Before Yamaguchi could react, Goda dove off the front of the boat into the waves. Scarface quickly jumped after him. A splash echoed from below. Kuroo gestured to the other guards with his gun, "Any of you want to join them?"   
They shook their heads, casually placing their weapons on the floor, backing away, "We're good."   
Kenma leaned over the side of the railing, narrowing his eyes at the water. "I don't see them. I don't think they surfaced."

"I hope they never do", Yamaguchi said, darkly.

He looked up at the sky. The red sun that lingered at the horizon's edge was now cut with vibrant pinks, golden hues that made the infinite ocean coppery instead of scarlet. It was a brilliant thing to behold, the type of sunset that warmed and rested the soul. 

  
Yamaguchi turned away, "Let's go home." 

  
He knew how to drive the boat, and he knew how to drive it fast. As they kicked into gear, Kuroo explained to Tsukishima that Yamaguchi had snuck into his and Kenma's room with a flash drive that deprogrammed the blocks put on Kenma's computer. The three had stayed all night coordinating their final move. Apparently, this had been Yamaguchi's motive all along in taking the gem. Freedom. Police would be waiting at the shore to take their statements, but an understanding had been reached with Japanese law enforcement in exchange for the stone and information on the Goda company's other illicit activities. Tsukishima nodded, dumbly. He knew he should be happy, celebrating their win, but he didn't know if he felt like he had gained anything. His memories were confusing, disorienting, untrustworthy. It was strange. Within an hour, he had gone from peacefully accepting a certain death, to sitting in a comfortable chair, watching Kenma and Kuroo grip the edge of the boat's railing, laughing into the wind.   
They made love look easy, but Tsukishima now knew that ease was misleading.   
He knew from the sum of this experience, that love was as easy as a brick to the face.   
He had watched Kuroo deteriorate without Kenma, and Kenma in all his boniness and exhaustion hadn't seemed to fair much better. Love had pushed Tsukishima and Kuroo to do something as crazy as steal a highly guarded national artifact, and sure, things had worked out, but it almost felt like they had only won by chance. He felt Yamaguchi's presence at the boat's controls behind him. He felt his steady hands.

Love hurt, and Tsukishima didn't know if he could handle any more pain.

Still, Kuroo and Kenma were laughing. They were holding onto each other, like they had chartered this boat for some kind of deluxe anniversary date, instead of its intended purpose to send them to an early, watery grave. Kuroo flinched back as some of the ocean's spray caught on him, beaming brightly. Kenma's lips moved to say something, but the wind drowned him out. Tsukishima watched as Kuroo leaned closer to hear his husband.

"WHAT?"

Kenma wrinkled his nose, raising his voice to be heard, "LET'S ADOPT A KID."

"WHAT?!?"

"I SAID-"

The wind washed over their conversation, but Tsukishima watched as Kuroo picked Kenma up, kissing him against the sunset, shaking his husband with excitement. Kuroo turned towards where Tsukishima pretended not to eavesdrop from his place farther back on the deck. His arms were slung over Kenma's shoulders, who's face burned in a happy embarrassment.

"HEY, GLASSES! GUESS WHAT! WE'RE GONNA HAVE A BABY!"

Tsukishima smiled wearily, giving them a thumbs up as Kenma pushed his husband off of him, "Kuroo, do not say it like that-"

He couldn't understand how they were able to even think about something like that after all that had happen. Life had no certainty. It was paralyzing. He could feel Yamaguchi looking at him, freezing him under his kind gaze. He wanted to be off this boat and somewhere far, far away from everyone, somewhere his heart could stop beating so painfully.

The sun set, and he knew some kind of end had to be near.


	26. Walk Away

As promised, the wharf was lined with police cars. Red and blue cut through the night, but as they exited the ship, nobody rushed to arrest them. The four were quickly separated for processing, which involved an overwhelming amount of questions and concern.

"Are you hurt anywhere?"  
"You were a hostage?"   
"Can you describe some of the other stolen work you may have seen in Goda's apartment?"   
"You were coerced into the theft?"

Tsukishima was sitting on the curbside, a blanket draped over him, staring glumly up at the pair of officers before him. Stern faces, crisp notepads, clean shoes.   
"Where is the Eye of the Moon, currently?"   
"Oh. Here", he extracted the stone from his pocket. It didn't look as fantastic now, not like when he had first glimpsed it. All this trouble for one stupid rock. Even if it was the only one of it's kind in the entire world, it was still just another piece of the earth, hardened and compressed by time. He held it out to them, unceremoniously, and the policemen backed away as if he were offering them a bomb. Tsukishima did not blame them. If he were to have a second chance, he too would've turned tail and ran as far away from it as he could've. He firsthandedly experienced how willing people were to destroy and kill for just a little sliver of light. When a team of gloved hands finally unburdened him of the gem, all Tsukishima could feel was relief.   
Eventually, things settled.   
Police cars drifted off one by one into the night, with a promise to be in touch. Kenma was taken to the hospital for malnourishment and some mild injuries he had sustained. Kuroo gave Tsukishima a wave as the pair were hauled off in an ambulance. There were searchlights, out in the distance, on the water, seeking out Goda. As it grew later, those too blinked out of existence. Goda was nowhere to be found. The final detective wished him a goodnight, and there was Yamaguchi, leaning against the brick building. His hair was windswept, his hands pocketed. He glowed in the simple light of the streetlamp. Tsukishima blinked and he could see the boy from eight years ago, waiting for him outside the gym after practice, waiting for him outside the convenience store. It was a bit funny how often he had made Yamaguchi wait for him in high school. The eight years Tsukishima had waited were a lot less funny, though.   
He supposed that this exact moment, past midnight, at the end of the dock, was what the two of them had been hoping for since the moment they had met.   
It was just them, now.   
There were no more barriers between them... _right?_

He looked at Yamaguchi and all he could feel was terror.

How little he really knew of him. It was an unnameable, awful feeling, the juxtaposition of not knowing and intense love. Yamaguchi could tell him to jump, and Tsukishima was sure he would dive into any sort of terrible place just for him. He couldn't even be mad at him, because this was who Yamaguchi was. Yamaguchi had lied. He had given and taken. Tsukishima felt desire, but he also felt that lost, regretful feeling that only the man before him could give.

Yamaguchi took a step forward, "Are you ready to go?"

If he went with him, now, Tsukishima already knew that he would spend a long time wondering why this all had happened. Yamaguchi, on the other end of the spectrum, had the freedom he had spent his entire life longing for. Tsukishima could not imagine stepping forward, living that way, like an exposed wire, willing to touch and be touched. He could not imagine that freedom with everything that had come to pass. He didn't want to move until things felt solid again, if they ever even had.

This attitude could never be fair to Yamaguchi. He had the opportunity to turn over new leaves, begin new chapters of his life, but all Tsukishima wanted was to stand completely still.

_Could you even have the freedom you want if we stayed together?_

The present and the past could not exist at the same time, and both frightened Tsukishima terribly. What had happened could not be redone, it could barely be explained. They could never be children again, they could walk home together right now, but they would not be the teenagers that had walked home together every night of high school. He and Yamaguchi could not even be the same kind of lovers they had been in that little apartment, in that tree lined neighborhood, in the heart of Tokyo. Those people felt so foreign. Maybe they had never even existed. Tsukishima didn't know if he could forgive himself for falling in love with Yamaguchi when he had never fully revealed himself to him. The man in front of him was so beautiful, so calm, so horrifying. He could hurt him, and Tsukishima knew that he could inflict pain back.

What if it didn't work out? What if Yamaguchi left again?

There was nothing in their way now. If things went wrong, it would be no one's fault but their own, and the greatest goodness Tsukishima had ever known would be gone. A promise of genuine closeness was a threat of more injury.

Yamaguchi took a step forward, and he stepped back.

Tsukishima wished he could say all of this, that Yamaguchi could take his hands, make promises, and they could begin the process of reintroducing themselves. But his bravery had been spent. He had used up all the courage he could muster to survive the last couple of days.

"I'm still.. I'm still the same. I'm the same person that's always adored you. Everything I've done has been to come back to your side, Tsukki. We can finally be together."

Tsukishima couldn't bring himself to reply, so he looked away, and Yamaguchi knew. He sighed, tipping his head to look up at the moon, his hands fidgeting amongst each other.

"But, I-I understand if you want to leave. If you want to stop all of this, right here. With what I've done to you, I understand."

His voice trembled and shook, echoing through the blank night. Tsukishima wanted to yell at him, to say, " _It's not what you've done, it's what I might do! If anything happens to you, or i-if you leave. If it doesn't work out- I'm just- I'm fucking scared."_

But he just couldn't bring himself to speak. Tsukishima thought of his first apartment, of the hours, of the years he had spent on his own. A cage. Maybe he could not free himself from the walls he had put up, but at least no one else could enter.

The seconds that passed felt like an eternity. Yamaguchi nodded slowly, dipping his head to hide the tears that were flowing freely down his freckled face. He stuck out his hand in a polite, formal handshake.

A goodbye.

Tsukishima took his hand. Yamaguchi still felt so cold to the touch.

_I love you. I love you so much. I have always loved you. I have waited for you for my entire life... but I am too much of a coward to imagine what could happen next._

He released him.

Yamaguchi turned, dipping in and out of the streetlights.

 _Look back_ , Tsukishima silently begged, _please, Tadashi, look back_.   
But he didn't.   
Yamaguchi disappeared down the dark street, as if he had never been there at all.   
Tsukishima sank to his knees, every ounce of exhaustion hitting him at once.   
_Is this really what I want?_  
Even if he had wanted to run after Yamaguchi, he couldn't.   
His legs could carry him no further.


	27. The Truth of Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is, the final chapter! i accidentally published half of it briefly, so terribly sorry if anyone accidentally read some of it. there will be an epilogue and some final author's notes, but thank you infinitely for taking the time to read this book. My heart is v full. 
> 
> here we go!

It was a mere blink, and somehow a month had passed. December arrived so suddenly, icy winds blowing and bustling without warning. Tsukishima could not remember exactly when he had stopped keeping track of the months, of the time that had flew by. He may have not even realized it was December if someone had not hung Christmas lights on the railing of the stairs to his apartment.  
Things were moving slowly again.   
A large and mysterious sum of money had turned up in his bank account. Kenma and Kuroo had also caught some some of the unexpected cash flow. The three had a brief moral debate over whether or not it should be kept, though Tsukishima really, genuinely did not care much. He ended up keeping a comfortable portion, and he moved out of the garage apartment. Kenma and Kuroo were both getting a bit much, with the food at the door, with the mild suggestions that he, like them, should consider seeing someone to help him process what had happened.   
Returning to a different building in Sanya made sense to him. His new room was just as small as the old one had been, and he would walk past the site of his old demolished building on his way to work. Tsukishima could afford better now, but this felt appropriate. The window overlooked a parking lot, and he had to climb several flights of stairs to get to his place. It was never quiet at night. Tsukishima quickly fell back into his familiar routine. The same simple breakfast. After some begging, the same stupid zookeeper uniform, though the shorts had been upgraded to pants for the winter months. He didn't see people often, turning down invitations from Kuroo, from Bokuto. Even Kenma had reached out, asking if he wanted to go "maybe get coffee or something, um, I don't know.."

He wasn't lonely. Everyday he told himself that. It was a proud mantra. _I'm not lonely_.

Tsukishima _definitely, totally,_ was not lonely, but he did find himself thinking the oddest things. There was a morning where he had nearly been late to work because he had spent twenty minutes staring down at the sink. He had gotten used to cleaning up extra globs of toothpaste, but when he looked, and looked, there were none. On a separate morning, he caught himself singing as he made his breakfast, and was instantly disgusted with himself.   
Sleeping was also an issue.   
The mattress on his bed felt uncomfortable. There was all kinds of space for him to stretch into, too much space. And he was always cold. Blanket after blanket went on, but warmth continuously escaped him. And... he no longer woke up and wondered about Yamaguchi. He knew, in full confidence, that he really was alive and out there. He was no longer the same kind of missing he had been.   
On his way to work, each day, distant memories would knock on the doors of his heart. Tsukishima started wearing headphones all the time again, like he had as a boy. This way, he wouldn't have to think, he wouldn't have to feel all those dreadful little things that were constantly hunting him. Even if he wanted to, he had no way of contacting Yamaguchi.   
On his days off, he would put music on and walk. And walk. Tsukishima crisscrossed each neighborhood of Tokyo, every corner, aimless. He didn't know what he was looking for, if he even was looking for anything at all. He looked into faces and windows and saw nothing. Wandering became his ultimate hobby. Tsukishima traveled through all of the solemn landscapes he could find. He walked alongside every shore, freezing and faultless.

He simply kept moving forward, blind and empty, into each day.

Tsukishima didn't want to be burdened under emotion. He didn't want to know sadness, or loss. He knew he didn't want these things, but... that left him with nothing?

 _No_ , he would remind himself, _not nothing!_

He had instant coffee.. and like, a couple other items in his pantry. His neighbors were screaming at each other less. He had talked his way out of having to wear a stupid Santa hat with his zookeeper uniform. The train was usually on time. And.. someone had put up Christmas lights on the railing by his apartment.

That was enough. Everyday he told himself that. _I'm not lonely! This is enough!_

His charade fell apart about a week before Christmas eve. Holidays have a terrible habit of illuminating the ugly parts one wishes to ignore. Everything is so sterilized in joy, only the most potent sadnesses can creep in. Work had been uniquely exhausting. Tsukishima had been forced to wear stupid contacts after misplacing his glasses in the break room. One had become irritated, so now he only had the full capacity for sight in one eye, and it was giving him a terrible headache. Tsukishima was getting off the train when he saw him through the blur. Green hair, a long winter coat. Even in his state, there was no mistaking it.

He acted on pure instinct.

Tsukishima tore through the train station, shoving people out of the way, trying to keep track of the figure that was moving away through the crowd. It was a race of blur and color.

"YAMA- TADASHI!"

The ache he had been suppressing conquered his whole body. Tsukishima felt like he was burning up as he quickly scanned the crowd. He spotted the man exiting the station and sprinted down the corridor, past holiday shoppers, past school children, running, running as fast as he could across the icy ground. He dove out of the station, nearly slipping over himself.

It was snowing.

The man was waiting at the crosswalk, silhouetted in the cool blue of winter. Tsukishima paused. _Terrifying._ He caught his breath, and tentatively stepped forward, "T-Tadashi, I-" The man in the coat turned, his face entirely different. No freckles, darker eyes. It- it wasn't him. Tsukishima swelled up with embarrassment. "Sorry, man, can I help you?"

He ignored the imposter, turned, and walked. If only he had been more honest, more brave. Tsukishima doubted that time really healed. Maybe, in his case, time was making everything worse.   
Yamaguchi was the other half of his soul.   
There was no getting over that.   
With everyday that passed, he was waking up and realizing the true gravity of what he had done. The time they were spending apart was time wasted.   
His brain begged for stability, but his heart begged for _him._  
Tsukishima did not go inside his apartment. He sat outside in the freeze, his knees in his chest, and he cried. He cried over his own complete, utter stupidity, he cried for the fears he so desperately wanted to release. It was terrible and uncertain. The Christmas lights blinked softly.

There had to be one universe, only one, where he and Yamaguchi didn't end up together.   
Somehow, this was it.

His tears stung, his thoughts were muddled, his hands shook. It wasn't cold enough, but Tsukishima half hoped he would catch hypothermia, turn blue, and shrivel up. He could barely breathe. He hadn't cried like this since Yamaguchi had first reappeared. That almost felt like a lifetime ago. Being with him had been hard, but what he felt what was happening now was maybe a thousand times worse.

"Hey, Glasses. You haven't been answering your phone."

Tsukishima turned sharply. Kuroo was leaning against the railing. Snow coated his black wool coat. He rubbed his hands together, warming them up. Tsukishima felt so embarrassed to be caught like this, and that just made him cry harder. Kuroo turned, placing his hands on the rail, and allowed Tsukishima to work through all of those bottled away emotions.

"K-Kuroo, I-I think I fucked up-"

Kuroo smiled, nodding slightly. He offered Tsukishima a hand, helping him up. "Go get cleaned up, then we can go to dinner." The blond nodded slowly. He dried his puffy eyes and changed out of his work clothes, after putting on the spare pair of glasses he kept. The larger frames sat awkwardly on his face.   
The two young men walked down the street, a great sense of deja vu overcoming them. They were exactly where they had been, doing what they had done so many months ago when Kuroo had offered Tsukishima the garage apartment. So much had changed, so much was the same. The snow fell with sweet clarity, spiraling and drifting down the street, brushing against hands and cheeks, the cold biting at exposed skin. It was fragile, but beautiful. Tsukishima sniffled slightly.   
He had never seen Sanya look so serene.   
They ended up at that same ramen place, the one with the sticky vinyl chairs. It was a bit funny to both of them.   
Kuroo folded his hands in his lap, gazing fondly at his friend, "So. How are you?"   
Tsukishima took a breath. He couldn't exactly remember the last time he had ever answered this question truthfully.

"I am. Really. Not doing well."

Kuroo nodded again, pensively. "What do you want to do about it?"

"I... I don't know. I can't ignore it. I love him so much, but I'm just- I'm just scared."

It felt good to admit that. The tiniest weight rose off his shoulders. Out loud, though, he began to realize how silly he sounded. _Scared_? Kuroo could see the realization wash over his friend. He smiled.

"Y'know, it's like I said before. Love is hard. It's not without sacrifice. It requires attention and communication. What kind of world would we live in if there was never any reason to fear? I don't think I'd like that, personally. Love couldn't exist."

"But what if-"

Kuroo cut him off with a wave of a hand. "Here." He slid a resealed white envelope across the table. "Yamaguchi's gone into some kind of hiding while he waiting for everything to settle with Goda. Kenma and I got this in the mail and we're pretty sure it's from him. There's an address and a time. 8 pm, tonight. One hour from now."

Tsukishima clutched the envelope to his chest. His heart beat wildly.

"So, Tsukki", Kuroo grinned, conspiratorially, "What are ya gonna do?"

He leapt to his feet, pushing a couple yen for the food across the table. "Thank you, Kuroo. You're.. you're right. And you're right that I should get better about asking for help when I need to. Talking to you.. yeah, this was really helpful. You're a really, really good friend."

Kuroo sniffed, tearing up, trying to shrug it off, "What can I say, I've always been kind." The dark haired man beamed at Tsukishima, his tears moving a bit more freely. He was so infinitely proud of his friend. "Go. Get moving. Go get him back."

Tsukishima nodded, returning the grin. "Right."

He dashed out of the restaurant, the little bell chiming as he flew out the door. The snow was coming down a bit harder now. It didn't matter. There was an infinite warmth in Tsukishima that guided him forward.

_I love you. With fear, but without expectations. I've know that I've wanted to spend my whole life with you since the moment I met you, and I'm done waiting._

_That life starts today, Tadashi Yamaguchi_ _._

He was guided to a side street in Shinkuju. Night had arrived with swift grace. The snow had ceased falling, but it had driven most of the city dwellers inside. It was the greatest prolonged quiet Tsukishima had ever experienced in Tokyo, like the whole world was listening. His chest heaved with effort from running. The streetlights carved a landscape of shadow into the narrow alley, immense swaths of light framed in dark. Tsukishima looked at his phone, eight pm, exactly.

 _Where?_ \- _there_.

He felt infinite and light and good, because Yamaguchi was there, at the other end of the alley. He was panting equally hard, his body slowing from the run. Yamaguchi looked up, and their eyes met, illuminating the other from within. Tsukishima was overcome by his own enchantment with this being in front of him. Just seeing Yamaguchi here, now, eclipsed everything, all the bad, that had happened. There was forgiveness that Tsukishima hadn't realized was crucial to their reunion, but he discovered it in that moment. He felt reborn- not just to Yamaguchi, but to himself.

He was ready.

They looked at each other and laughed a little bit. It was all dramatic, and a somewhat silly, but it was them.   
Yamaguchi walked toward him, his feet careful and hesitant. When he was close enough to touch, he dipped his head, embarrassed.

"Tsukki.. I am a liar. And a thief. But I- I can't stop, I am unable to stop loving you. I hope you can have me, as I am. Even though I don't-"

"Yamaguchi, shut up."

Tsukishima tipped his face upwards. He took a second to capture the way that Yamaguchi's brown eyes glittered in the streetlight, and then he kissed him. His mouth moved passionately over his, urging apart his lips, stripping away any fear that remained. It was kiss that could shake the very moon from its place in the sky, perfect, soul-searing, complete. When they finally parted, he held both of Yamaguchi's hands close against his chest.

"I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, or a year from now. Hopefully, we can finally have the peace we deserve, but if not, if we have to get into some other kind of craziness again, I won't mind. As long as you're with me, I won't mind one bit, because I know I just want to be with you."

He wrapped his arms around the shorter man, squeezing him tight. Yamaguchi's arms were around his waist. The snow was falling a bit again, spinning in the narrow light. The two men held each other so tightly. Yamaguchi made a muffled sound against Tsukishima's sweater. He released him, fingers still tangled together. "What did you say?"

Yamaguchi blushed, laughing. "I asked, what do you want to do now? We can't stand here forever."   
Tsukishima shrugged, pulling him into another kiss. "We could."   
He ran his fingers through Yamaguchi's hair happily. It felt so good to have the other man leaning against him. Yamaguchi smiled, shaking his head.   
_This was it. This was finally it. This is us, and this is our life now. Together._  
Tsukishima snorted, removing his phone from his pocket. His face hurt from grinning so much. It was a foreign sensation, but one he could get used to. He looked at Yamaguchi.   
"Do you want to go get dinner? That's what I was doing, before Kuroo told me about your letter. I ran over here before I could actually eat."   
"What letter?", Yamaguchi frowned. "You were the one who reached out to me about meeting?"   
Tsukishima shook his head, slowly. "I didn't-"   
Yamaguchi instantly stiffened, wilding looking around, "Get down."

"What-"

He forcefully shoved Tsukishima down onto the snow dusted pavement, standing over him, sizing up every inch of the side street. A small knife had found its way into his hand, mean in the harsh lighting. "Where are you?" Tsukishima could see his own frightened expression on its polished surface.

Yamaguchi bristled with anger and adrenaline, "Where are you, Goda?"

A hoarse, achey laugh echoed down the street, cold and evil. Yamaguchi's former boss stepped from a neatly concealed corner, a pistol loose in his grasp. He looked worse for wear, stubble on his face, bones pronounced, more like a starving animal than a human. The old man stumbled as he walked, but he tightened his grip on the gun, determined.   
"You let your guard down."   
Goda's eyes gleamed manically. He grinned, hungry, lowering the gun to point at Tsukishima.   
"Now, I'm going to take from you, as you did-"

Yamaguchi moved with lightening precision, "TSUKKI, COVER YOUR HEAD."

Tsukishima ducked, doing the best he could with his shaking hands. Yamaguchi rushed Goda, slashing at his arm as the bullet was fired. He cried out in pain as the shot ricocheted off the wall, scattering sparks. Yamaguchi wrestled the gun from his grasp, his wrists crossed with the knife in one hand, the gun in the other, bearing down on the old man. Tsukishima looked up from where he was crouched in the snow. He noticed the slight tremor in Yamaguchi's hands as he pointed the weapons on a newly disarmed Goda. The old man looked enraged but pitiful, blood seeping from the cut in his arm. Yamaguchi cocked the gun.

"I should've made sure you were dead the first time."

He aimed for Goda's head, a straight shot that would leave nothing unanswered, but Tsukishima reached out, grasping at the cuff of his pants. "Don't. Tadashi. Don't kill him. You don't have to make yourself a murderer. We can still walk away from all of this." He couldn't see Yamaguchi's face, to know if he was even listening, if he could even be reached. The seconds that passed felt like years. Goda looked up at him, his eyes filled with hate. Finally, Yamaguchi drew his arm back, opting to slam the gun into his adversary's head, knocking him unconscious. Goda's body unceremoniously thudded into the snowbank. Yamaguchi breathed a sigh of relief, dropping the gun next to Tsukishima's place on the ground. "Can you call the police?"

He turned, looking down at him. Tsukishima nodded, taking his phone back out. The dial tone stretched through the air. Yamaguchi's eyes held a peace, a gratitude. He looked at Tsukishima, his hands in his pockets, his face full of love. "Thank you.. you're. Yeah." Tsukishima dipped his head in agreement. "You can actually be free, now."   
Yamaguchi beamed, about to say something, but his face changed, fear flickering.   
His eyes were no longer on him, but on something behind Tsukishima's head.

**_BANG._ **

His mind conjured up a festival's fireworks, but red was blooming through Yamaguchi's shirt. Tsukishima leapt to his feet to see that man, that guard, the one with the scar on his face, standing at the end of the alley. He grabbed the gun from the ground, his hands mimicking Yamaguchi's, shooting blind bullets after him the dark. ** _BANG! BANG! BANG!_**  
The man with the scar turned tail and ran, disappearing from the street corner.

"Kei-"

Tsukishima turned his attention to Yamaguchi, who's fist was balled into his shirt. Yamaguchi was deathly pale. His knees crumpled from underneath him, but he managed to catch him before he could fall into the pavement. Tsukishima held him upright, pushing his own hands against the small but significant wound. Red burst through his fingers, warm and sticky, flowing up to his wrists, spreading on white snow ground, like paint thrown across a blank canvas. Yamaguchi's eyelids began to flutter.

"SOMEBODY- Somebody help- My- he's-"

"Tsukki-"

Tsukishima clutched Yamaguchi's body in sheer panic. In the distance, sirens. Tsukishima seized the phone, remembering the call he had made. A woman was yelling questions through the line, but he didn't hear her, she didn't matter, "Send an ambulance, send help, please-"

Yamaguchi reached up, feebly brushing a hand against Tsukishima's arm, signaling him to put the phone down. He placed his palm against Tsukishima's face, smiling, the freckles on his cheeks lifting upwards.

Yamaguchi looked.. happy.

"Just a few more minutes, they're coming, okay?", he whispered, looking down at the man in his arms. Tsukishima tried to memorize his face, only his face, the way his hair rested against his skin, this defined space. He felt Yamaguchi in the pressure of his hands, in his body, in his heart, because they were two souls that moved as one, _because it's not going to end like this._

But, Yamaguchi just smiled.   
Like always, like this was their secret.

"You are the best thing about my life."

His hand fell away from Tsukishima's face, leaving a print of red. He grasped at him, at his limp wrist. The sirens were much louder now.

A weak rhythm pressed back against Tsukishima's fingertips, Yamaguchi's heartbeat.

The pulse that sustained his very universe.


	28. A House By The Sea

_Seven years later_

Her name was Mei Kozume-Kuroo, and she was the most loved little girl in the entire universe. Even now this was true, when she was rapid fire kicking the back of her father's seat.

"Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

Kenma turned around, giving his daughter a tired look. "Almost."

She fell quiet, but went on kicking his seat, punching out a rhythm to the song on the radio. Kuroo chuckled softly at his husband's discomfort, turning left onto a gravel path. "Mei, if you look, you'll be able to see the ocean soon."

"REALLY?"

She pressed her face against the car window. Kenma gave Kuroo a grateful look. He took his husband's free hand, running his thumb against his palm. Kenma looked through the rear view mirror, smiling as he watched Mei's excitement grow, her small fingers making little prints on the glass. She craned her neck, longing to catch sight of the waves.

At least twice a year, they would take a long car ride to go see her uncles. She loved the visits, even if they were a bit strange. The gravel path wound like a snake through the tall grass, leading up to a solitary building on a cliff's edge. It was a simple home, wood and stone, with light blue shutters and a comfortable porch. The bricks fit together neatly, unweathered by the salt air. The house had its own poetic faculty in its isolation, the defiance in which it stood, yellow light shining from windows against the setting sun, the ocean at its perimeter down below. They pulled up the car alongside it, and Mei leaped out of the backseat. She ran towards the two figures emerging from the front door, the long grass pulling at her ankles, her backpack thudding against her stride.

"Uncle Tsukki!"

She flung her arms around him, barely tall enough to reach the man's waist. The lanky man made a small noise at the quick impact, but recovered, giving her a small pat, "Hello, Mei." She released him, grinning a missing tooth grin, turning to the other man in the chair. Mei stood up on her tiptoes, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, "Hi, hi Uncle Ta-da-shi!"

Yamaguchi stared forward, his eyes a bit glassy and blank, but Mei simply darted past into the house. Kuroo locked the car, walking over with Kenma. "Hey Glasses, hey Yamaguchi." Tsukishima gazed fondly at his old friend, "She's gotten so much taller."

Kuroo whistled, "She's going to be the best middle blocker in Japan. We've been doing some tosses in the backyard."

Kenma grinned, "After our trip out here, she's going to do a kid's summer training camp."

Tsukishima stepped aside so the two men could follow their daughter into the house, "You should send her to Karasuno for high school, I hear from Kageyama they're still a powerhouse."

"Nah, nah, if she's going to do volleyball, it's Nekoma's girl's team or nothing-"

"Oh, but didn't we beat you at-"

"We're not doing this again.", Kenma grumbled with finality he pulled Kuroo inside. Tsukishima grinned, taking the handles of Yamaguchi's wheelchair, pushing him after their guests.

They passed around memories over dinner. Stories swirled like the water on the rocks down below. Each wonderful day, the promotions and celebrations, the progress of their chosen family. The walls of the small home bounced back their laughter, the echo of time. The men at the table knew more than anyone how crucial every moment of life was, how important is was to be able to look back, to share, to reminisce and cherish. Mei sat amongst them, happily pushing around vegetables on her plate, confused but pleased to hear tales of a time before her own memory.

After dinner, she sat with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi on the porch while her fathers cleaned up, swinging her feet. Mei tucked her long, dark hair behind her ears. She could hear the slow, smooth tow of the ocean. "Hey, Uncle Tsukki?"

"Yes, Mei?"

"Why's Uncle Tadashi like... that?"

The older man dipped his head, looking fondly at his partner. Tsukishima ran a finger through his long hair, parting it back. Mei looked at Yamaguchi for a response to the touch, but saw none. "Well, he got hurt pretty bad awhile ago."

Mei nodded, trying to grasp at a child's definition of understanding. "So that's why he can't walk or talk or anything?"

"He can see and hear, and he can talk, it's just a bit different. You have to pay attention, though."

He beckoned her over, kneeling beside Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi stared forward into the darkening night, but his hand moved slightly, tapping a rhythm into the chair's armrest. Mei furrowed her little eyebrows together, confused, as Tsukishima watched Yamaguchi's hand movements, intently. He held up a hand, signaling her to be patient. Finally, Tsukishima turned back to look at Mei, his worn face pleased.

"He says that you have a nice smile."

Mei's eyes widened, and she beamed, flinging her arms around Yamaguchi's neck before running back inside, "Thanks!". She quickly burst back through the door, dragging her fathers outside. Tsukishima gave them a small wave as Kenma and Kuroo were pulled to the path that led to the beach. Mei hopped from stone step to stone step, thinking. As she leapt off the stairs, Kenma made a small yelp, praying for her to be just a bit more careful.

The three stood on the sand, Mei's hands held by both of her fathers. The ocean's arms were opened in a soft embrace, the tide pulling up close to her feet. It was large and simple, and she could see into it forever, but Mei was still lost in thought. She looked back on the house on the outcropping, a question pulling on her mind.

"Hey, Dad? Would you be sad if Papa couldn't talk with.. I dunno.. out loud words?"

"Papa already barely talks with out loud words."

Kenma stepped back, aiming a kick at Kuroo. Kuroo dodged the attack, laughing.

"I would probably be sad, yes."

"Are Uncle Tsukki and Uncle Tadashi sad?"

Kuroo looked down at his daughter and ruffled her hair. She made a noise of complaint, pushing him away. The wind rustled around them, reaching, pulling at clothes. It felt warm.

"They're really happy. Trust me. I've known both of them a long, long time."

Mei nodded in affirmative. They definitely appeared to be happy in their own little world together. She walked a bit down the beach under her parent's careful eyes, and then looked up. The moon in the sky was bright, full, pleasantly hanging over the waves. The small girl gazed at it, holding her hands up to the heavens, wondering what it would feel like to touch the beautiful, gleaming rock.

Maybe her uncles would know, they were smart about all kinds of things.

She turned back up the stone steps, determined to ask them, Kuroo and Kenma following.

"Hey! What's it like to touch the moon?"

Tsukishima raised in eyebrow, looking at Kuroo, who turned a bit pale. He picked his daughter up, "That's a story we'll tell you when you get older." Mei protested as she was brought back inside for bed. Tsukishima retrieved the extra blankets for the guest room, then came back out to sit beside Yamaguchi, chuckling softly.

He held his hand, as they tapped against each other's fingertips.

_N-I-C-E S-E-E-I-N-G T-H-E-M_

_I-T I-S_

Tsukishima heard some commotion from inside, sighing slightly, laughing against Yamaguchi's shoulder. He felt a small squeeze on his hand and turned his attention back to him.

_H-E-Y_

_W-H-A-T_

_I L-O-V-E Y-O-U_

_I L-O-V-E Y-O-U T-O-O_

They sat together, no longer two separate stories, fumbling, yearning for conclusion, but one that quietly wrote itself into each day, in the life they shared in the house by the sea. Their fingertips touched one another with the tenderness of two people that knew themselves, and knew the other, completely.

How joyful it was, to all be together like this, Kuroo and Kenma fretting over their daughter. Mei, ever curious and growing.   
The greatest love stories are shared among many souls.   
They are never easy or straightforward; but rather, they are unexpected and unexplained, built on chance encounter and maintained connection.

These stories are, of course, remarkable.

_-The End-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all!
> 
> It's gratitude time!
> 
> There is, of course, my eternal thanks to Haruichi Furudate. I love Haikyuu. It's one of the things that helps me out of bed on the hardest mornings. Who woulda thought an anime about boys playing volleyball could mean so much to me, aiyaaaa.
> 
> I also wanted to thank everyone who has taken the time from their life to read this story, it really does mean so much to me. Writing is such a terrifying challenge, and I was so uncertain of how to approach a second story after finishing I'll Carry Your Weight, especially one that is so drastically different. I constantly worried that people would not enjoy it, that not a single person would read it, that I was not a good enough writer to try to tackle something that was much more serious than my last work. I still have... quite a few of these worries. I do not think this is a perfect book by any stretch of the imagination, but I am proud of myself for sticking with it until the end. I don't think I could've had the courage to do so without all of your kind comments and votes.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> I started writing this on the first night I moved to a new state for my gap year program. I was hot, lonely, heartbroken, sleeping in a tent, and I was surrounded by unfamiliar people. To summarize: I was struggling, and I didn't know what the hell to do, because there's nothing more terrifying than opening yourself up to others.
> 
> I felt like Tsukishima, as a character, shared that fear with me.
> 
> As I lay in that tent, I thought up this story and wrote the first chapter. This began a several months long exploration, both here and in my personal life, of what it means to connect, to choose to love even when you have been hurt.
> 
> I've come out of it a much happier person, happier than I've ever been in my life.
> 
> So, here's my parting sentiment:
> 
> Connection, be it with a significant other, a friend, a family member, or even the world around you, is an indefinable action. But, it is, I think, the rarest and most precious thing in life to find at all. You have to be open to it, it will not just appear to you. It must be sought out. You'll know it when it's there.   
> So, take a breath.   
> Embrace every moment, like you've never been hurt. Say what you want to say, accept help when it's offered, ask when it's needed.
> 
> Turn your gaze to the horizon, and remember to love. Even when it's difficult.
> 
> Especially when it's difficult.
> 
> That's how we become ~remarkable~
> 
> As for me, I'll be launching right into my next book, and I think it's going to be my best one yet. It's an Iwaoi fic called A River Runs Through Us that I hope you'll check out. Chapter one is now published! I will also be starting a bokuaka fic soon, after I finish my other story, Inseparable. I like to work on two fics at once, haha.
> 
> So, I guess that's a wrap on The Man Who Ran Off With The Moon.
> 
> Thank you, always.
> 
> Until the next adventure! 
> 
> \- MariKei


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